


Slaves of the Sun

by DecimalDrones



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Slow Build, cured!wade, pretty!Wade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 18:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2591228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecimalDrones/pseuds/DecimalDrones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Temporarily rid of his healing factor and undeniably vulnerable, Deadpool is forced to put his mercenary life-style on the backburner. As he struggles to adjust to a life susceptible to death, by chance, Wade finds refuge in the hospitality of some kid named 'Peter'. Though Wade begins to feel at ease, he is forced to remember that when it comes down to it, he is Deadpool first, and 'Wade Wilson' second.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Quite Dead Yet

Peter had been on his way home from a late class at university when he started noticing that something was off. He wouldn't have had time to change into his suit-- but it was of little concern at the time.

Peter followed the trail of blood to an abrupt halt. The man sat hunched in a steadily growing puddle of his own blood as he leaned against a light post, clutching his stomach.

His hooded sweater obscured most of his face, though subtle mouth movements made it clear he was mumbling to himself.

That usually wasn't a good sign.

Peter continued walking closer, placing his trust in his spider-sense  in case anything went awry.

The man's muttering quieted as the distance closed between them.

The line between 'Spider-man' and Peter Parker seemed to have thinned considerably. So much so that Peter didn't have a second thought in regard to approaching the man; though he had been resistant to most all of Peter's inquiries.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Peter knelt a safe distance away from the disheveled man, making certain he wouldn't have to whip out his high kicks.

The man scowled deeply, clearly wary of Peter's advances.

"Thanks, but I've never been one to accept the kindness of strangers," He scoffed. "Now beat it, kid. Isn't it a bit late for you to be out playin' hero?"

"I--"

"Just run along," He rested his head against the light post. "Sorry about gettin' blood on your sidewalk, or whatever. I'll move along soon as I can place my spleen." He peeled his bloodied hand away from his abdomen like Velcro to reveal what appeared to be a bullet hole. Peter flinched. The sight brought back painful memories and made his stomach churn.

"Oh god," He mustered.

"Yeah, looks like the bullet cleared all the way through." The man twisted his torso to see his lower back, apparently paying no mind that this made the injury gush with more intensity. "One hell of an exit wound, too."

"Stop, stop!" Peter reached a hand towards the man, though promptly pulled it back, and instead began rummaging through his book bag. "You need to keep applying pressure-- I'm going to call an ambulance."

The man's blue eyes widened in shock, and he scrambled to his feet, startling Peter.

"No doctors, no police." He hissed. His hand seemed to instinctively rest at his hip, as though he attempted to reach for something that wasn't there. "Last thing I need's some quack pokin' an' proddin' around in my abdomen followed by a criminal investigation. I already used the 'I fell on a bullet' excuse, an' oddly enough it doesn't fly too well."

From this angle, Peter finally got a good look at his face. He appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He had no shortage of nicks and bruises, and his blonde hair was peppered with flecks of dirt and blood.

Weird. Peter didn't recognize him, though he was sure this guy struck him as familiar somehow. Peter rose slowly to his feet, careful not to make any sudden movements.

"Okay, okay. No hospital; I get it. You aren't getting rid of me that easily, though." He spoke clearly and concisely, mindful not to show any vulnerabilities. He was used to dealing with these types. Like a cornered  animal, they can turn on you even while you're trying to help.

"Can't a guy just bleed out in peace in this day and age? The _nerve_ of some people," He huffed.

"As a matter of fact, no. People can't just do that. It's uncouth. And unhygienic."

The man laughed heartily, doubling over as the colour left his face. "You, my friend, are either very brave or very stupid. I'm not gettin' a stupid vibe from ya, so lemme fill you in on the general lay of the land. A bleedin' dude on the sidewalk typically means you should run in the opposite direction. Try to remember that for next time, yeah?"

"Noted. However my place is in _this_ direction and I still can't just leave you like this."

"Sure you can." He grinned weakly. "This whole 'injured' thing's probably gonna be temporary anyhow," He added under his breath. Peter chose to ignore the cryptic nature of that statement.

"Dude, I'm just gonna level with you. If I leave you here, you'll probably be dead by morning."

"Good golly gosh. Now ain't that a dilly of a pickle."

"...I get that maybe adrenaline's keeping your pain at bay for now, but we really need to get you medical attention, so--"

"Trust me, I've been worse. This' a regular Tuesday in my book. No biggie." He shrugged.

This exchange was going nowhere fast. A strange, though still not unfamiliar exchange.

Peter was sure he was missing something.

"Have we met?" He asked frankly.

"Can't say we have. You might wanna try harder on the pickup lines, though."

Peter rubbed at his temples. The headache he was developing was oddly familiar, too. He heaved a long sigh.

"You have a name, man?"

"...Wade. It's Wade,"

“Wade… got it. Is there _anyone_ you want me to contact, Wade? Family, Friends?”

“No, I…” He bit his bottom lip and his eyes lowered to the pavement. "Actually, yeah, could I borrow your cell?"

 

* * *

 

Wade stepped a few feet away and sat cross legged on the curb. Peter allowed him his privacy, though couldn't help but eavesdrop what little he could hear.

"Heyoo! Sup, Wease. Guess who? Wait, don't hang up. Uh-huh. Yeah, you wouldn't believe what kind of an afternoon I've had. Mhm. Think you could hook me up with some new gear? ...In how long? Dude, that's not gonna fly with me right now... Well, could you at least set me up with a place 'till this blows over? I'm pretty... _vulnerable_ right now. ...Seriously? Then what the hell am I s'posed to--?"

Wade groaned loudly, turned to Peter with an 'everything's cool' smile, and adjusted his volume. "What am I even paying you for? ...What do you _mean_ I ruined your life... oh yeah. Right. Fine. I'll talk to you later, man." Wade pulled the phone from his ear. 'Guess I'll need to find another lackey,' He thought bitterly.

"Everything alright?" Peter asked, interrupting Wade's thoughts.

"Here," Wade said, tossing Peter the phone. He fumbled with it at the realization it was now sticky and covered in bloody fingerprints, repeated his 'no fear' mantra, and slipped it into his pocket hoping his discomfiture wasn't evident on his face.

He'd have to remember to invest in a new cellphone case.

"Ugh... so, what's the situation?"

Wade smiled uncertainty, though his eyebrows knitted together in worry and doubt. "Hey, this is gonna sound weird and I'd hate to impose, but..." He suddenly sounded far friendlier than before.

Peter rolled his eyes.

He could see where this was going a mile away. Logically he should call the police and allow them to investigate, but he knew this was probably far more than a mugging gone wrong or a random act of violence. He wasn't about to leave this man to bleed to death in the street; not when he could change the outcome.

"First of all, _please_ keep applying pressure. I can't stress that enough." He breathed. "Second of all, Wade, I'd be humbled if you'd allow me the honour of cleaning and bandaging your wound. ...Seriously. I don't know your circumstances, but I'm sure there's no need for you to die tonight."

"Say no more. You've _swayed_ me. Thanks, kid."

"It's Peter," He corrected, pulling Wade to his feet and draping his arm over his shoulder to support him while they walked.

"Peter, huh." Wade's expression seemed to relax. "You get off on being servile, or what? You don't see many random acts of kindness these days." He paused. "Or at least _I_ don't."

Peter snickered.

"I'm gonna see about taking that as a compliment. Don't worry about it. Maybe one day you'll return the favour."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A public identity gone private, a private identity... is now private x2, I guess.
> 
> (Stay tuned for this as well as other stuff. Winky emoticon.)


	2. Anything That Can Go Wrong

He lay face down, draped in a blanket and sprawled over the couch with one arm dangling lifelessly over the edge. The soft hum of the TV dulled to a numbing methodical white noise in the background.

Most all of his muscles ached whenever he breathed, and the pain was just prominent and obstinate enough to prevent him from sleeping the time away. Wade was more than accustomed to living in persistent pain, but having it coupled with crippling boredom was nothing short of unbearable.

And so, he waited. Alone with his thoughts, nothing to focus on but his own mortality.

It was surreal. Less than a week or two had gone by since the... _'incident'_   had occurred. To think that only two weeks prior he'd been at the top of his game, and now...

Suddenly, the front door clicked open and Wade perked up instantly as Peter stepped inside, a gust of frigid air wafting in behind him. Wade cloaked the sheet around himself and waddled towards the door, outstretching his arms and enveloping Peter into a warm, blanketed hug.

"Petey! Honeybun, Sweetcake!"

Peter awkwardly patted him on the ribs in response.

"Uh... hi."

Wade could feel the coldness of Peter's jacket against his skin, making it clear that the weather outside must have taken a turn for the worse.

"How come you were so late gettin' home today? Tell me you weren't out treating someone else's bullet wounds behind my back."

"Damn. You caught me," Peter joked.

"Forreal though, I was about ready to start looking around for you myself. Do you have any idea how boring this place gets when you're not around? Not to mention I'm _terrible_ company." Peter gingerly ducked out of Wade's hold.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I was..." He started.

Wade examined his face tentatively. A faded bruise now present below his cheekbone, Peter was clearly more battered than when he had left that morning.

"What happened? How come you're all banged up?" Wade questioned, his expression soured. "Was that _Flash_ kid still giving you a hard time? Need me to deal with him?"

"Not really, and no. That won't be necessary." Peter hummed, albeit touched by the sentiment. "It's just gotten pretty slippery out what with all the freezing rain, and... You know me, being the klutz that I am..." He trailed off.

"So that asshole _has_ been givin' you a hard time," Wade grunted. "Just say the word, Petey."

"Easy, big guy. I lost my footing on the way home, is all."

Wade wasn't convinced. Peter spoke as though he'd had the wind knocked out of him. Sensing Wade's doubt, Peter changed the subject.

"So..." He began, limping past Wade and flopping onto the dense couch cushions. "What are we watching?"

"Uh... news." Wade deadpanned, joining him. "Apparently Spidey did something impressive."

Or, at least Peter _thought_ he'd changed the subject.

"Oh, really? He's a pretty cool guy, huh?"

"Self-righteous dickweed, but for the most part he's a-ok." Wade yawned, not invested in the subject.

"What? What have you got against the web-head?" Peter sounded personally offended. "Tell me you're not letting the J.J. propaganda get in your head." He continued.

"I, uh..." Wade realized he'd slipped up and spoken from the perspective of Deadpool. Thinking quickly, he backtracked to an objective standpoint. "...I think he cut me in line at a falafel stand once. I never got over it." Peter seemed to relax a bit.

"Well you didn't mention _that_! What's this world coming to?"

"Keeps me up at night just thinkin' about it." Wade said, unconciously scratching at his bandages.

"Hmm... that reminds me," Peter sat upright and began rifling through his bag.

"What, did you bring me anything?"

"Yeah, actually." Wade's face lit up expectantly. "...Nothing edible." Peter added, finally pulling out a package of gauze.

"Ah, hell. Not _another_ checkup. We changed my bandages this morning." He complained.

"Yep. And we'll continue to change your bandages every day, two or three times a day so you hopefully won't get an infection. You've only been here a little over two weeks and this probably won't even begin to visibly improve for a few months."

"A few months? The hell do you people survive on a regular basis?"

Peter appeared puzzled. "Uh... You were _shot_ , Wade. Like... in the _gut_. With a _bullet?_ "

"Well, yeah. Among other things."

"...How do you... What do you mean by that?"

Wade opened his mouth to reply, but apparently decided against it. Peter decided to let it slide for the time being. "Don't fret, man. We'll have you back on your feet in no time."

He raised his arm and gently pressed the back of his hand into Wade's cheek. He flinched, and his eyes darted to the floor.

"What are you...?”

"Your temperature feels reasonable. I'm just making sure. Let's get one thing straight, if you develop a fever and go into shock I really will have to get you hauled off in an ambulance. If you really don't want that, then just bear with me here, okay?"

"...Yeah, sure. Whatever floats your boat."

"Atta boy," Peter pinched his cheek lightheartedly, though Wade swatted his hand away, embarrassed. "Though I gotta say, I find it far more worrying than humbling that you trust me with this sort of thing more than you would a trained physician."

"Back alley patch work's better than no patch work."

"My qualifications are even lower than that of a back alley doctor, dude!"

"Well, so far so good. Hell, with you on the prowl I'd say the typical whitecoats oughta fear for their job stability."

"Har har. You're a riot." Peter said sarcastically, unrolling the gauze.

* * *

 

"Quit squirming, would you?"

"Hey, this isn't my idea of a walk in the park either, y'know." Wade winced.

"Well maybe if you'd behave a bit less recklessly--"

"It's just like when you go to the dentist an' they stab at your gums while saying 'maybe you wouldn't be bleeding if you flossed more'. It's all propaganda, you know? The floss industry's probably in the toilet so they stab you up to make you think that floss is the cure-all solution, an'--"

"Wade, you're always great for a conspiracy theory, but right now I need you to stay still."

Peter carefully wove the bandages around Wade's torso in a rhythmic front to back pattern.

Wade stared off to the side, unsure  of how to feel about having Peter so close.

"Do you really intend to let me stay here for 'a few months'? ...What's possessed you to do that?"

"It's what I do." Peter responded automatically.

"Huh?"

"That is to say... I picked you up so you're my responsibility, alright? Besides, you aren't really giving me many other options. As it stands, I'd much rather care for you here than see you popping up on the afternoon news."

"I... thanks."

"You're the patient, so just focus on healing up." Peter placed what was left of the gauze into the now under stocked first aid kit, and began moving towards the kitchen table, absent mindedly rubbing his sore muscles. Wade frowned.

"Y'know who'd be a great option for keeping Flash off your back? That rambunctious scamp _'Deadpool_ ' something or other. Now _there's_ a fellow with a can-do attitude." Wade expected Peter to laugh with a sarcastic retort, but he stayed silent for a moment too long. "Uh... kidding. I was kidding."

"Ah, Deadpool's not so bad. Not as bad as he thinks I-- everyone believes he is, at least. ...I dunno. I just wish people'd let up on the guy a bit."

"...Oh." Wade was in shock. Had Peter just defended him... against himself? This kid really did have a heart of gold. Wade felt even worse for lying to him about... virtually everything. It made him realize that he'd almost started believing the lies himself.

'Maybe it'd be alright if we told him?' Spoke a quiet voice in the back of Wade's head.

"It's one thing to want to save the killer whales, an' another entirely to want to live with 'em." He muttered.

"Wade? Earth to Wade?" Peter tapped him gently on the shoulder.

"Sorry, what? I zoned out for a minute there."

"Sleep-- I'm gonna go catch some shut eye."

"What, already?" Wade whined. "But I thought we were gonna stay up and--"

"It's been kind of a long day," He said, smiling softly. "You should take it easy too, you know. You won't recuperate properly if you don't start sleeping more regularly."

"Yeah, yeah." Wade said. He now lay on the couch upside-down with his legs rested against the back.

It was true that his old habits weren't transferring well now that he was back to being squishy and mortal. He acted aloof, but he genuinely appreciated that someone cared enough to remind him.

Peter stood and turned to leave.

"Night," He waved.

"Take it easy," Wade waved back, losing his balance and tumbling backwards onto the hardwood. "Sonova-- I'm good!" He winced, flashing a thumbs up.

Peter glanced at Wade over his shoulder, and shook his head. Wade sat upright, and watched the bedroom door for a few moments after it closed. He'd actually started missing that kid during the days.

He was proving to be the ideal patsy; understanding and admittedly easy on the eyes. Roomin' with him was none too shabby of an arrangement, all things considered. Wade only had to stick around this joint 'till his healing was back up to snuff, but he'd found himself enjoying the downtime and company more than he'd have liked to admit.

The option had opened up for him a while ago-- he could have been held up in a temp apartment or a bunker somewhere, but... Peter didn't need to know that.

There were a lot of things Peter didn't need to know about. Wade had made a note of limiting Peter to the information that he was jumped by some guys and they took his stuff. He wasn't entirely lying. Not _entirely_.

A moment later, the disposable phone that Peter had lent him buzzed to life.

"Speaking?" He said, raising the phone to his ear. "You're calling about the what? Oh, right, right! The, uh... the guns I ordered." Wade took a moment to survey his surroundings.

The apartment was tiny and not much to look at, but he was pretty sure the word magazines used was 'cozy'. Yes, he felt comfortable here. The thought of bringing an arsenal into this space made him feel... _wrong_.

"...Think you could hold that order a little longer? I'm gonna need another month-- actually, make that two-- at the very least before I can head out there," He lied. The call ended shortly thereafter, and Wade flicked off the TV.

He wasn't about to start getting used to this, though. He'd make sure he was long gone before he had to start being honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fighting evil by moonlight. Winning love by daylight.


	3. Up and Over

Peter heard his name chanted in a serene whisper, barely loud enough to pull him from sleep. Assuming he'd been dreaming, he pulled his covers higher and snuggled deeper into his pillow.

Suddenly, he felt his nose being pinched, causing him to make an unflattering snorting noise and flail his arms as he bolted into an upright position.

"Wha--?"

"Mornin', roomie." Wade sing-songed.

Peter grunted and slowly squinted his eyes open. "G... mrnng..." He muttered groggily.

"If you don't get your ass up you'll be late."

"Mhmm..." Peter was slowly melting back into the inviting warmth of his bed, his eyelids drooping. "Five more minutes..."

Wade snapped his fingers in front of Peter's face, jolting him into consciousness. "Agh, I'm up, I'm up!" Peter moaned. "Jeez, I _swear_ you're worse than my alarm clock."

"That's the spirit! Now up and at 'em, buttercup. Not like you need the extra beauty sleep."

Peter rubbed his eyes as he pulled his clock from its bedside table. "What gives? It's still kinda early."

"Remember last time I didn't wake you? And you were all 'Wade, how _could_ you? I thought this was a relationship built on _trust_! _Forsooth_! You had _one_ job!"

"Yeah, but..."

"An' also," Wade grinned and shuffled closer. "S'cause I made breakfast. You never leave yourself enough time for food, so..."

"Really? Dude, that's so thoughtful!  Kinda sudden and suspicious, but... still thoughtful! What's for eats?"

"Well, I went rummaging through the fridge and all you've got is some soda, OJ, purple stuff... haha no, not really. You've got none of that. You're poor as a sack of lemons."

"Thanks for the update."

"So I made oatmeal! I even added the apple slices like you like."

"You made me oatmeal?" Peter said in a falsetto of disbelief. "No one _ever_ makes me oatmeal. I mean, my aunt still _tries_ to make me oatmeal whenever I visit, but just between you and me her oatmeal's kinda... y'know. And not in the good way, either."

"Yeah yeah, I'm great, now get the lead outta your pants and hustle." Wade insisted, tugging Peter by the arm.

"I'm going, _yeesh_! I'll just assume nothing's on fire and I imagine you'll fill me in on the deets later."

"And this is why we get along."

 

* * *

  

As per morning routine, Peter had showered eaten and organized his books as he would have any other day.

He couldn't help but notice how hyper-vigilant Wade was being-- almost like he was channeling an obligation, guilt, or both. Peter opted to shrug off his curiosity.

He'd had nothing but questions since Wade had arrived, though he'd come to realize that the easier question would have been 'what _wasn't_  Wade hiding?'.

Wade followed as Peter made his way to the door.

"Oh, before I forget, could you write out a shopping list for me?" Peter asked.

"How come I'm always the one writing it?"

"Truth be told, you have some of the most beautiful penmanship I've ever seen. I bet the other shoppers get wicked jealous."

"Thanks for noticing. But hold off on shopping for today, would ya?"

"Uh... Okay. Well, do you need  _anything_ while I'm out?"

"Hnn... I'll get back to you on that."

"Suit yourself, then. Take care."

"Have a good one," Wade leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on Peter's forehead.

"Yeah, I'll see you la... Wh... Wait, the hell was that?" He asked. Wade had acted so casually that Peter nearly didn't give it a second thought.

"Huh? Oh, well, science says that people who get a kiss before they leave in the mornings live longer than those who don't. The latter are apparently also more prone to traffic accidents."

"...What? What kind of scientists have you been _listening_ to? And I don't even _drive_!"

"You still want to take that risk? It's a slippery slope, Parker."

"Well..." Peter blinked idly. "...Well, I can't argue with that logic. Fine, whatever. But I'd better not find out that this is some kind of new-age 'kick me' gag."

 

* * *

 

Peter twirled his pen around his fingers as the lecture slid by.

Peter often asked himself, 'What would Uncle Ben do'? In the current situation 'anything else', came to mind. Wade was next to impossible to read. He was a constant revolving door of emotions, to say the least.

One minute he could be bubbly and playful, and the next he'd be miles away, lost in a memory.

The shuffling of bags and blurs of motion alerted Peter to the fact that people were now leaving. Was it time for break already?

 “How come you're more out if it than usual, Parker?” Asked the student who'd been sitting next to him as of late. Aside from the occasional borrowed pencil, they'd hardly spoken to one another.

"Ah, well, I've been kept a bit busier than usual these days..."

"Uh-huh."

“I just--" Peter stopped himself. Wade had inadvertently come up in many of Peter's conversations since he moved in.

If there was a conversation Segway that could integrate the topic of the shady weirdo in his home into a socially acceptable format, he had yet to find it.

"...I just rescued a stray cat." He said. "He’s done nothing but eat my food, crawl into my bed, and... Well, he's also pulled down my drapes. …Twice."

“Great. What’s the use of snagging a seat next to the smartest kid in class if you’re too busy napping to take notes? Now who’m I supposed to copy off of?”

“Heh. Good question.” By now, Peter was used to this kind of treatment from his peers.

“Parker, I will personally pay you for your notes. We’re friends, right?”

“You even know my first name?”

“Oh, yeah, uh… P...Patrick?”

“Ah… Close. Sorta. More or less. See ya around, dude,” Peter said, standing and exiting the classroom.

It was a fair observation, in any case. He really _was_ pretty preoccupied these days. Maybe all he needed was some caffeine to clear his head.

The student followed as Peter approached the nearest vending machine.

“C'mon, Parker, don't leave me hanging! Seriously, I think I might fail this next test if—"

“Hey, you guys hear that there’s some shady weirdo waiting by the school entrance?” He overheard a group of girls say in passing.

The choice of words caught his attention.

A shady weirdo. That could have been anyone, though, right?

"Yeah, he stopped to pet some person's dog but he's been loitering ever since."

A shady weirdo who likes dogs. No, that definitely narrowed it down.

“Listen, I have to step out for a minute. Just— follow your dreams or something. You’ll probably be fine."

Peter began to jog outside, and soon noticed the tall man leaning against a fence.

“Wade!”

“Oh-- Hey!" He waved, meeting Peter half way. "Well, if it isn’t Peter Parker, smart but lazy. You must be telepathic or something, I was just about to call you."

"Why the-- _what_ \--?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"No, I mean..." Peter could see the breath coming off of Wade's lips. He had his hands tucked snugly into the large front pocket in his sweater. No matter how you looked at it, he was underdressed. "How long have you been waiting out here?"

"Not long. Again, I was just about to call you but then this lady that was walking by let me pat her dog. I couldn't pass that opportunity up. It was even one of those big ones-- a great dane or something-- but, see, it had these fuckin' rainbow booties on with a matching vest. No joke. To top it off, I think she mentioned his name was 'Noodles', an'--"

Peter smiled and relaxed his posture. “Wade, that sounds adorable and I'm sorry I missed it, but... what are you doing here? It's _freezing_ out!"

"You're one to talk. You ran all the way out here with no jacket?"

"The rest of my stuff's still inside. What's your excuse?"

"Well, _doy,_ " Wade said, jabbing a thumb into his chest. " _Canadian?_ "

"Yeah, my ass." Hastily, Peter began removing his scarf and instead wrapped it securely around Wade's neck. “I don’t care how Canadian you are; you shouldn’t be out in the middle of winter without a scarf. Now what gives? You weren't planning to ambush Flash, were you?"

“Not if you don’t want me to. Also not if I think you’ll find out but that’s beside the point. You’re on break now, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

"Well, I was just thinking... Since I was in the neighbourhood and all... let's go out."

"Out?"

"Y'know, the great outdoors. But like... with you and me."

"Are you implying..."

“I’m here to pick you up! What say we go somewhere for lunch today, my treat?”

"Lunch...? Is this like a... Wade, I don't know if--"

"That was a rhetorical question, Pete."

"But... that's--"

"Fantastic!"

"But my break's only an hour and a half, tops."

"Well we should probably step on it then, huh? Or, I guess I could just hobble all the way back home... All by my lonesome... In this harsh, unforgiving terrain." He coughed dramatically. "Did I mention alone?"

"Hold up-- what about your injury? Are you really sure you're ready to be roaming around?"

"Petey, we all know that bullets never strike the same place twice. That's  _first grade,_ dude."

"Well... I guess you got me there. So?"

" _So_ , if I stay inside any longer I think I might go stir-crazy. Cabin fever just isn't as much fun as the movies make it look."

"Right. And?"

"And... and maybe I really wanna get to know you a bit better, alright? That a crime?"

Peter's eyes narrowed.

" _You_ wanna get to know _me_? Dude, you're a mystery wrapped in an enigma. You still haven't even told me how you got, y'know-- _shot_."

"Tell you and tarnish my mysterious allure? Never."

Peter thought on it for a moment longer, then sighed. This was... sudden. Wade had been behaving a bit off since that morning-- moreso than usual. There had to have been a reason, right?"

"You know what? That allure must be working for you. Alright, you're on. Let's go out. This'll just be us hanging out as friends, right?"

"Hell, I'll take it. Bro-date it is."

"I just need to run and get the rest of my stuff. You can't come inside, though, and I don't want you waiting for me in the cold... Look, there's a small coffee shop pretty near here, why don't you wait for me there and I'll catch up in ten?"

"Alrighty."

Peter turned and began making his way back towards the school.

"Wait-- did you want your scarf back?" Wade called after him.

"Nah. Keep it." Peter called back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It can only get fluffier from here, folks.
> 
> ...Or can it?
> 
> *Nervously eyes angst tag*


	4. All Good Things

"Heeey, my not-date's here!" Wade grinned, gesturing to Peter as he pulled open the glass café doors.

"Ah, well, you two have fun. Just let me know when you're ready to order."

"Yep. Later, Jessica."

"Hey, call me Jess! Haha. Seriously though. Call me." The waitress made a phone symbol with her thumb and pinky fingers and flashed Wade a quick wink as she turned to tend to other customers.

It apparently hadn't taken Wade all that long to get cozy.

"Did you see that? She even gave me her number."

"Haa... so she did." Peter said, settling into the seat opposite Wade.

"And then I got this slice of cheesecake for free." Wade continued. "No wonder you like this café, the service is _superb_. Is this what it's like to live the high life?"

"Oh, I'll bet." Peter said, leaning back in his chair. "You're living the dream, alright."

"Like, she was eyeing me from across the room and normally when people stare at me in public it's for other reasons so I was pleasantly surprised when she came over and decided to strike up a conversation instead of kicking me out or something."

"...Neat. Already planning for your next date, huh? You're a regular Casanova." 

"What, you're not jealous, are ya?"

"No, why would I--"

"You're so damn easy to read, Pete."

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean...?"

"Means you coulda' just asked," Wade scooped a generous amount of cake onto the small dessert spoon and held it inches from Peter's mouth. "Here, you can have some too, if it bothers you that much. Heck, I know _I'd_ hate to get stiffed regarding free food. Now say, 'aaah'~"

"...Really, Wade?"

Wade pushed the spoon so much  closer that the metal brushed softly against Peter's lips. Although he'd vehemently deny it, Peter really did have issue with refusing free food. Reluctantly, he ate off of the spoon.

"That... that's pretty good, actually. What is that, raspberry?"

"Beats me. I don't really care as long as it's edible." Wade lifted a napkin and dabbed Peter's mouth, as if trying to match the ritzy atmosphere of the cafe. "Feel like ordering something else?"

"Uh... maybe, but... _ahem_."

Wade pressed his palms into Peter's cheeks.

Peter squirmed out of Wade's reach. "Knock it off, would you? How come you're always poking at me?"

"I dunno. You're squishy and kinda cute, I guess."

" _Squishy_?" He echoed. "Gee. I bet you use that line on all the girls."

"You bet."

"Really? And in what universe does that _ever_ work?"

"A few, including this one. What can I say? The heart wants what it wants."

"Pfft. Oh, yeah. And how does that usually go over? 'Hello, Ma'am! You're looking squishy and of moderate attractiveness this afternoon!' I somehow can't picture it ending without hot coffee to the face."

Wade raised his eyebrows as if accepting the challenge, and leaned out of his seat, waving the waitress over once more. Her ponytail bobbed from side to side as she jogged over, readying her notepad and pencil.

"What can I get you gentlemen?"

"Hey, Jess," Wade smiled. "I just thought I'd tell you you're looking rather squishy and cute this afternoon."

There was a brief silence as Peter fumbled over his words, looking for an apology. Before he could speak, she giggled lightly and brought a hand to her blushing face.

"Aw, hell. Thanks, you too!" Peter's mouth hung agape. Wade merely looked at him, his hands folded neatly over each other. Rather than triumph, his face read of blatant 'I told you so'.

"Well!" She continued. "I take it that'll be another slice of cheesecake... on the house?" She winked, speaking in a hushed tone.

"How 'bout it, Petey?"

"No-- no, thanks, but..." Something about this situation just seemed to rub Peter the wrong way. "We were just leaving. Right Wade?"

"Ready when you are, mon capitaine." Wade stood, and pulled a crumpled twenty out of his pant pocket. "Uh, keep the change, girlie. W-wait up, Pete!" He sputtered, weaving around tables to catch up with Peter who was already half way out the door.

 

* * *

 

"--Hey, Wade?"

"Yuh-huh?"

"I... thought you said this wasn't a date." Peter questioned.

"C'mon, Pete, where does it say that two dudes can't enjoy a simple lunch together?"

"Nowhere," He answered. "Honestly, I'm all for it. If you're into that kinda thing, more power to ya. But... do we have to hold hands?" He mumbled, trying to casually pry his fingers out of Wade's claw-like grip, though to no avail.

"Well, yeah." Wade replied plainly, providing no further explanation.

"You really are something else, you know that? This always--" Peter slipped on an uneven mound of snow, clinging to Wade's hand more tightly to regain his balance.

"And there it is! He's beauty, he's grace," Peter released Wade's hand and tried to rebalance himself.

"Hey, maybe if you'd slow down a bit, we could--" Peter's legs slid backwards once again, and he instinctively propelled his arms forward, clinging to Wade by the shoulders.

"My god, you're making this almost _too_ easy for me. Next I could pull the 'I guess you're falling for me' line, but that's just too dang obvious." Wade fastened his hands snugly around Peter's waist. "I'll settle for 'see you next fall, nerd'."

Peter drew backwards and raised his hands defensively. "M--my legs aren't as long as yours, I can't clear ice as easily."

"Ah, sometimes I forget how tough short people have it."

"Aren't you the one who's too tall?"

"That's exactly what someone who's short and in denial would say."

"Can't we just slow d--"

"Crap, now that you mention... What time is it? We'd better get a move on." He said, taking Peter by the hand again as he continued forwards.

"That's the exact opposite of what I was going to s--"

"Where'd you wanna go first?" Wade said enthusiastically.

"First? What do you mean first?" Peter asked, resigned.

"The cake place didn't count."

"Okay, yeah, but how many places did you intend to--"

"Well, how many places do you think we could hit up in a lunch hour? I'm buyin'." Peter tugged on Wade's hand and brought them to a halt.

"Why the urgency?"

"Did you know that you could eat at a different place in New York every day for 75 years and never eat at the same place twice? Unfortunately, I haven't got that kinda time, so we'll hafta settle."

Peter shook his head in bewilderment. "I reiterate. Why are you in such a rush?"

"Why? We've only got an hour to kill, that's why! C'mon, man, you call this a hustle?" Wade began walking again, though Peter pulled him back.

"Oookay. Tell you what; I _might_  just be willing to take my afternoon classes off-- just this once-- if it'll get you off my back." Hearing no immediate response, he glanced up at Wade. "Uh... Is that a no?"

"...What, seriously? No foolin'?"

"Yeah."

"Holy shit, dude! That's great! Hell, I almost wish I'd worn a tie."

"Nah... You pull off the angry hobo look pretty well. What did you have planned next?"

"Planned? I didn't, really. You pick. I'm up for anything."

"You sure about that? I know my idea of a good time might not be--"

"Dude, I don't really care where we go. I can rough up the establishment any time, but it's not every day I manage to snag a date with you."

Peter felt himself flush.

"You just said this wasn't a--"

"Of course it is, you nerd. I can't believe you actually fell for that."

"Ah, shuddap." Peter placed a hand over his mouth to hide his embarrassment. "How about... hm... and you said you don't have to like the place, right?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

Peter's face held a slight smile of contentment as he prodded bookshelf after bookshelf, his fingers grazing against numerous paperbacks until he finally pulled a thick text from its place and began skimming the pages.

"What's up with this bookstore? No comics? No straight to DVD discount Barbie movies?

"No, but good point. Let's check out the comic book place next. Ooh, and then maybe the video game store." Peter beamed. "I can't tell you how many places I've been meaning to go but I just didn't have the time." He said. It felt good to just be able to hang out and not worry for a change.

"What're you even looking at over there? This ain't a library, chief."

"On my salary? May as well be. Now keep your voice down like this _is_ a library."

"What, did you like that book? Want me to buy it for you?"

"Huh? Oh, nah, I was just browsing."

" _Please_ , you always get that look on your face when something sciency catches your attention."

"What look...?" Peter glanced at Wade sceptically. "Ah, never mind. Really, don't worry about it. Either way, it's probably not in either of our budgets. No joke, I think the student discount actually _ups_ the price."

"Sounds like much ado about nothin'." Wade slid the book out of Peter's hands and pushed a finger into his forehead to hold him at bay before he could object. "I told you this date'd be on me, right?"

"By god, I've created a charitable monster. Wade, no, put the book down or so help me--"

"In that case, I'm buying it for _me_. For your information, I just so happen to have an extensive interest in..." Wade held the book higher and furrowed his brow as he read the cover. "... _'The Fundamentals in Analytical Chemistry'_. Wow, you really are a dork."

"Dammit, Wade, put the book down!" Peter hissed, though Wade only twisted further away, his expression darkening.

"Alright, now you listen up and you'd better listen good. You probably saved my life here, kid. Not to mention you've been freakishly kind towards me; Enough so to let me live under your roof an' mooch out of your fridge. This is small collateral in comparison an' whether you agree or not, I've gotta debt to repay 'cause I _really_ hate owing people. Ergo, you're gonna let me spoil you rotten 'till the cows come home."

"Dude, wait--"

"Actually, scratch that last part. Cows are fricken' terrifying." He shuddered. "Either way, do I make myself clear?"

"...Are you threatening me with kindness? Honestly, from you, I'm somehow not one bit surprised. Fine, I read you loud and clear."

 

* * *

 

"I can't remember the last time I ate so much frogurt." Peter exclaimed, reclining on one of the many benches scattered around the area. "How the hell did you even convince me to get frogurt in the middle of winter?"

"We're making great time. We could go see a drive in movie, or something."

"There are two issues with that. Firstly, as far as I know neither of us is a car. Secondly, not until the third date."

"You don't have to have a car to sneak in, but... If you've got any other suggestions I'm all ears."

"Maybe..." Peter started, sitting up. "Maybe let's just sit for a bit. Tell me about yourself."

"Myself...?" The request appeared to be genuinely taxing as far as Wade was willing to reveal. "Oh! I know-- one time I head-butted some guy so hard that--"

"That's... not what I meant. Let's start simple, 20 questions style. When's your birthday?"

Wade simply shrugged his shoulders. "Meh."

"How old are you?"

"Who's counting?"

"Where'd you go to school?"

"Dropped out in the ninth grade. I was a real bonafide guttersnipe."

"When did you--"

"Pete, lemme be completely honest for a minute here. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the most stable or reliable of people. My memory really ain't all it could be these days, so... No matter what answer I give you, you'd be best off takin' it with a grain of salt."

"Okay, okay, sorry. I can understand that. Normally I wouldn't pry, but... just-- just one more question, okay?"

"...Fine."

"And don't lie. Just this once."

"Sure."

"Well... What was today really about, Wade? I just somehow get the feeling that this isn't how you initially planned to spend the day," Peter stared down at his lap, busying his hands as he fiddled with the strap on his camera. "...Where were you really headed before you decided to surprise me at school?"

Wade's face remained neutral. The question didn't seem to phase him at all. If he had nothing to hide, he was doing a good job of showing it it. "C'mon, relax a little would ya?" He spoke finally, smiling brightly. "Pete, today you've got my full attention, one hundred percent. Then again, this is New York, the city of 'fuck your probability and logical basis of understanding all things conceivable, so don't quote me on that."

"You're dodging the question."

"Dodging? Yes. But at least I'm not _lying_."

"That's still lying."

"Lying by omission isn't really _lying_ , is it?"

"It is."

Wade snickered as he rested his face against his palm. "And what about you? Far as I've seen, you haven't got any mafia connections or freaky kinks. You're completely ordinary. _Everyone's_ got some dirt. Way I see it, you're way too clean to _not_ be hiding anything. Probably something moral, but _something_ nevertheless."

Peter froze, clutching his camera strap more tightly. Just what was Wade trying to suggest? Was this his way of trying to maintain Peter's silence? He frowned as the gears turned in his head. Wade had apparently thought this through, and worked Peter into a corner where they were each in the same sinking ship.

He couldn't be sure of that, though. Wade was probably joking, as he always did, but this air of doubt was to prominent to dismiss. Peter was beginning to feel sorry for bringing it up. Maybe that was as far as Wade's thinking had gone in this situation?

"Dude, I have no idea what you're on about." Peter hummed confidently. By now, he had the 'innocent' act down to a science. "I mean, the photography business sometimes has me trenching some restricted terrain, but besides that I'm really nothing all that remarkable."

"Ah, don't sweat it. I don't wanna know. If anything, that's part of the reason this relationship's so congenial."

"Congenial, huh? Hm... Yeah, I guess that's the word for this, isn't it?" Peter smirked. They really did have more in common than just common interest. Peter somehow felt both unnerved and at ease to have such binding secrets. He'd deny it, then avoid it. He could suddenly understand where Wade was coming from. "It's weird. How can we have so much and so little to talk about at the same time?"

"You speak an awful lot like an old man sometimes, you know that?"

"Yes, well, you talk like a 1930's gangster, and--" Peter Smiled sadly, looking down at his feet. They'd managed to segway out of that topic so easily, he began to wonder why he really needed to know more. "Look, forget I said anything, okay? Let's just go back and order s'more frogurt or something. What flavour was yours? I wanna try it next."

"Hold on," Wade said crossing his arms over his chest. "Look, no need to get all bent out of shape. I admit that I've been less than forthcoming with you. And I admit that that's pretty much the way it's gonna to stay. Therefore... Hell, how can I put this..."

The wind began to blow with more ferocity as the sky darkened in an ominous gradation. It looked like there was a storm on the horizon. Wade still appeared mostly unphased by the wind as it haphazardly blew his hair into his face.

Peter couldn't shake the feeling of unease building in his stomach. Why did he get the feeling that Wade was going to up and leave any time now?

He absentmindedly reached over and gingerly brushed Wade's hair out of his eyes. The gesture wound up coming across as being more romantic than he'd intended.

Wade grew silent mid-sentence and the two locked eyes. Peter couldn't help but notice what a radiant shade of blue Wade's eyes were.

His heart raced as he slowly began to pull his hand back.

"Sorry, I..." he whispered. "I, uh... ow!" He flinched, placing a hand on the back of his head.

"Pete? What's wrong?" Wade asked.

Peter stood suddenly, his eyes darting from place to place. "Wade, I-I'm sorry. My bugle senses-- I mean, I should go take some photos for the Spidey-- er, I should go."

"What? Peter, wait up--!" Wade struggled up off of the bench, his boots skidding against the snow. "Did... did I do something--?"

"Don't take this personally!" Peter sat him back down by the shoulders, and pleaded forgiveness with his eyes. "I'm sorry; I'll make it up to you somehow." With that, he grabbed his camera and started up the street, not once looking back.

Wade wasn't sure how not to take that kind of rejection personally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy-cliffhanger, Batman.
> 
>  
> 
> Next update we get a visit from the city's masked vigilante. You know the one. Bat-something.
> 
> Later, mentlegen.


	5. From Insult to Injury

‘Alright, so it looks like we embarrassed him something fierce.'

"Yeah, even though _he's_ the one who made a move." Wade said aloud. "And I thought we were really hitting it off. That was like-- romcom material for a while."

'Maybe we should run after him?'

"Well, _duh_." His shoulders slumped and his hands rested slackly in his pockets, Wade trudged through the accumulated snow and slush up the road he was pretty sure Peter must have taken.

As Wade walked, he noticed the population becoming more dense, with more people than usual aiming their camera phones at seemingly arbitrary locations.

Wade stopped one of the onlookers in hopes of being brought up to speed. "Hey, what's all the hubbub? There a celebrity in town?"

"Well, kinda! There was a stickup in one of the shops up the road. Rumors have been goin' around that _hostages_ might be involved!" She grinned ear to ear.

"Mhm. Now, call me old fashioned, but isn't this usually a bad thing?"

"Not when the Bugle's payin' top dollar for pics of a superhero kafuffle. Once Spider-man shows up things are _bound_ to get interesting."

So  _that's_ where Peter went in such a hurry. Wade shrugged it off. If he needed to go take pictures, he could have just said something. Wade would have understood--anyone could see from space why Peter needed the cash.

He had to hand it to him, though. The kid must have had some kinda reporter instinct after all.

Wade continued pushing through the crowd, trying to catch sight of Peter and occasionally getting elbowed in the face.

Eventually, he reached the police tape at the front of the crowd.

No sign of Peter.

He couldn't have gone beyond the barricade, could he? Wade was begining to feel uneasy. If things got dangerous, he'd at least want to be there as backup.

He gripped the police tape and attempted to peer over the blockade, but the flurries of snow clouded his vision into the distance.

Soon he froze, his eyes locked on a small black object contrasted against the freshly fallen snow.

Was that what he thought it was?

Without hesitating, he pulled the tape over his head and bolted past the police, ignoring the muffled voices of protest sounding from behind him.

He came up on the object, and his blood ran cold.

It was Peter's camera, lying on its side, cracked and broken in several places. Wade knelt in front of it, and held the broken camera in his hands, his fingertips numbing from the cold.

He pressed the camera close to his chest and began running again, shouting Peter's name. The worry in his voice was soon replaced by frustration and rage.

The words the woman had said ran through his mind.

Hostages. These guys may have taken _hostages_.

The swirling snow began to fall more heavily around him as the wind stung his face, but Wade paid little notice.

If one of these guys so much as hurt a hair on Peter's head, Wade knew was fully prepared to beat anyone to a bloody pulp if need be— but then... what might Peter think of him?

Wade gritted his teeth as the light in his eyes began to fade. He was furious. He was mad at himself. Someone he cared for was in danger and he felt completely useless.

"Look out!" Someone shouted.

Wade paused, once again aware of his surroundings. A car— supposedly not able to see him— sped recklessly in his direction.

"I said, _move_!" The voice shouted again, this time with more force.

In a split second, Wade found himself flung across the pavement, narrowly missing the getaway car as it spun out of control and into the wall of a nearby shop.

Police officers responded immediately thereafter, storming the scene and approaching the car with their guns drawn.

"Are you alright? You're not hurt anywhere?"

"...Oh. It's _you_." Wade sneered.

Spider-man loomed over him, reaching a hand to help him up. Agitated, Wade hesitantly accepted his hand and rose to his feet.

Spider-man sighed deeply as he slowly released Wade's grip.

"The _hell_ are you doing wandering around out here? How on earth can you have such a complete lack of regard for your own personal safety?" He berated. "You could've gotten yourself _killed_!"

"Forget about me, arse nugget! My friend..." Wade still clutched the camera tightly in his hands. "His camera's broken..."

"Oh crap, It _is_?!" Spider-man exclaimed. "I mean... it is?"

"Yeah, an' I think he might be in some sort of trouble, so if you'll excuse me--" Wade attempted to skirt around Spider-man, but he held out his arms to block his path.

"You can't go over there. It's a crime scene."

"That's not up to you." Wade growled.

"The hostages have all been rescued and brought to the station to give statements for the police report. If your friend was one of 'em, I'm sure you'll be able to get into contact with him some time tonight or tomorrow morning."

"But--"

"Everyone's safe. Don't make this any harder than it has to be, dude. I'm just doing my job."

"Like I give a crap about your _job_. I need to talk to--"

"Now please step back behind the police tape or I'll have to have an officer escort you."

"Just tell me if one of the people you saved was a nerdy brunette."

"I... I don't know, maybe! Or-- probably?"

"Well you _should_ know!" Wade insisted. "He's the one who's always takin' pictures of--"

"We can take it from here, Spider-man." Spoke an officer, taking Wade by the arm and leading him away.

Wade didn't struggle.

"Nice work back there, Spidey." Another officer said, patting him on the shoulder. Spider-man simply watched as they walked away, and then called out.

"Um, hey," He started apprehensively. "Sir-- be more careful, okay? And just... head straight home, you hear me?"

Wade didn't look back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later, Wade sat tensely on a park bench. The sun had long since gone down, and the cold had driven many citizens indoors.

Wade tapped his foot impatiently as he held his phone to his ear, until he heard the click of someone picking up on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Well it's about _time_ ," He said. _"_ You have any idea how long I've been trying to reach you?"

"But you're the one who--"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry about cancelling on ya last minute this morning, I had other things I wanted to attend to before moving on." he sighed dismissively.

"Right. If you say so," Said the voice on the other end. "An', uh. What about your latest flunkey?"

"The who now?"

"Y'know, the kid you've been leeching off of?"

"Riiiight... _him_..." Wade muttered. He'd stopped seeing Peter as a simple means to an end a long while ago. "There were... complications an'... Long story short, I think I'm about ready to make that gun pick up now."

"Really? I mean, _really_ this time? You've cancelled this order how many times now? I think your Uzi's gettin' cold."

"That's..." He mumbled. It was amazing how Peter could almost make him forget how much scum there was in the world-- the entire reason he needed to take people out. "Look, I had a good thing going. Can you blame me for wantin' an extended vacation?"

"Whatever, man. Your prerogative. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"No change, jus'-- I mean I was gonna tell him before I left, but..."

"You? Excuse yourself from a situation without tying up loose ends? _No way_. That's something only an apathetic asshole would-- wait, never mind."

"Ah, get off my dick, wouldya? You're an arms dealer, not a Freud impersonator."

"All I'm sayin' is if you can avoid using innocents in your hair-brained schemes of self preservation, do so. Life's easier on all of us that way."

"Relax. The kid still doesn't know me apart from any Tom, Dick, or Harry. Soon as I'm back up to my teeth in ammo and my healing factor's back in commission, I'll be able to seamlessly slip off the grid. No big. I'm sure he'll be fine. I checked in on him 'round an hour ago-- he got home okay. He was just passed out on the... on the couch..." Wade uttered uncertainly.

It was just beginning to sink in. The couch? Why the _couch_? had Peter actually been waiting up for him?

Nah. Couldn't be. He'd probably never even noticed he was gone.

...Probably.

Whatever the case was, some things ultimately took precedence over Peter's peace of mind. Being average-joe Wade Wilson was all fine and dandy, but he wasn't about to let a repeat of the day take place. Not in any capacity.

Just because he would never hurt Peter didn't mean the rest of the world would be so kind.

By now, Peter probably had expectations for Wade, meaning his hands were virtually tied. But Deadpool had the wherewithal to do what needed to be done.

No one would expect any better from Deadpool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.
> 
> I mean, plot thickener was on sale at Walmart so I went ahead got a six pack.
> 
> Good deal.


	6. Before The Ink Is Dry

Peter rolled the tension out of his shoulders as he stepped through his door and paused momentarily, only to be met with silence.

He hadn't been able to find or get a hold of Wade since they were separated in the confusion. His searches as Spider-man came up dry, too. Despite how much time had passed, he still had a dull pang of emptiness wash over him every time he arrived home and there was no one there to greet him.

If Peter had known that the fiasco with Spider-man would have been the last time he saw Wade, he'd have acted far differently.

Wade had looked so worried about him. So _hurt_. And yet he'd had to behave in such an aloof manner.

Peter considered that Wade had simply exercised his ability completely fall off the grid, but it was always easiest for him to assume the worst and prepare for the... worst.

After all, he'd had enough of a track record to know that those who directly or indirectly associate with him were likely to suffer for it.

But this time-- this _worry_ \-- was different. Maybe even downright selfish.

Was it really easier for Peter to assume something bad had to have happened to Wade than it was to accept that he'd left without saying 'so long, thanks for all the fish'?

In all honesty, he just wasn't sure.

This brought home in Peter's mind how little he really knew about the guy. The realization, in itself, didn't bother Peter too much. Or rather, he had no right to be upset.

He understood that when you repair a bird's wing it's gotta fly off some time. It was understandable at first. Hell, it was to be expected. Though the friendship they'd developed was apparently still only one of expediency.

How sad was it that the best friend he’d had in ages was only sticking around as long as he was useful in some way?

He slowly walked over to his answering machine to find, not much to his surprise, many angry voice mails from J.J about one thing or another. He was probably still ticked off that Peter hadn't gotten any pictures of Spider-man in action during the hostage situation a few weeks earlier.

Peter sighed silently. He hadn't yet made note of his broken camera, seeing as how if news got out, Jonah would probably have him kicked to the curb faster than he could say 'job stability'.

Worse yet, if he couldn't get his hands on a new camera soon, he'd be out of a job that complimented his need to fight baddies at the same time.

He was in a loop, but there was no point in dwelling on it. For now, Peter needed to sleep.

Uncle Ben often preached that if you sleep when you're troubled, an answer would make an appearance when you woke up; that it would be a sign _too_ clear to miss.

After an entire night of patrolling, Peter figured that was his best bet.

He started towards his bedroom and halted midway as a thought occurred to him.

He'd try calling Wade one last time. One last time, and he'd accept that the guy was no longer his responsibility.

Wade always had this way about him. He'd seldom open up, but anyone listening intently enough for the right things could pick an underlying meaning below his roundabout sentences. Sometimes he would ask for what seemed like advice; an opinion. Sometimes, Peter would have an opinion to share. If Peter simply didn't know what to say, every once in a while, Wade would inquire about what his uncle might have said.

The gesture warmed Peter to the core. Knowing that Uncle Ben's wisdom could sit with even one other person in spite of his absence solidified Peter's reasons for doing the things he did.

But now, it was time that he stepped off of his guilt suspended widow's wharf and finally let himself store his memories with Wade away.

Maybe he really _couldn't_ save everyone.

Maybe that was okay. This time, at least, he was confident he'd given someone a fighting chance. He pulled out his cell phone, and dialed.

The phone rang once. Twice. Five times.

There was a brief silence, then a crackling on the other end.

…

…

…

'Please leave a message after the beep.'

_Beep_

Peter shook his head. Really, what more was he expecting?

"...Hi." He Began. There was probably nothing else he could say that would justify his running off at an inopportune time, but it was worth a shot. "It goes without saying that I'm kinda worried, right? What if you're out heckling the geese and I'm not there to keep them from attacking your jugular?

That's a fancy way of me saying I just wanna make sure you're still... breathing. I'd better find out that you've had your head stuck in something for the past while or I'll be mighty upset.

I mean, yeah, you could take off whenever, but... you could at the very least have said something before leaving. Well, no, I guess right now the least you could do now is call me back." He pursed his lips. "Or... don't. Hell, you're probably not hearing a word of this, anyways. Okay, whatever. Just-- bye."

Not much more satisfied that he'd done all he could, he hung up the phone and headed to bed. In the back of his mind, he still hoped sincerely that this hadn't been another friendship that 'Spider-man' had ended.

 

* * *

 

He leaned against a wall a fair distance away from a bus stop, simply biding his time.

“You guys have been awfully _chatty_ lately. I feel like that should be a bad thing but it just isn't registering like it's a bad thing. I mean, not that I’m _celebrating_ or anything, but in all honesty the quiet’s been driving me absolutely _batshit_.” Someone nearby cleared their throat. He paid no mind. “It’s like… I don’t think I _prefer_ having my noggin’ scrambled with gobbledygook all the livelong fuckin’ day, but that’s all I’ve known for a hell of a long time." He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the sidewalk. "It's like—well, I can’t really think of an appropriate simile right now, but it feels weird, okay? Or, more specifically, it's anything _else_  that feels fuckin’ weird to me. That’s part of the reason I had to leave in the first place. That entire situation back there-- everything about it felt _weird_. It was as though I--” Someone cleared their throat again, this time more loudly.

Wade finally raised his head to see an uppity-looking woman in a blazer was glaring down her nose intently in his direction.

“…What’s her problem?” He muttered.

‘You’re talking to yourself’

‘You may as well be wearing a ‘commit me’ sign on your forehead’

“Out loud? Oh. I hardly noticed. It's a habit by now, I guess.”

She rolled her shoulders pompously and seemed to curl away from him, even though they were already quite a distance apart. “Sir, are you alright?” Her thin lips pursed into a scowl. She was clearly not at all _actually_ concerned for his well being. It was apparent that she only wanted to draw attention to the fact that he was making her uneasy. "I simply couldn't _help_ but notice that you were talking...  _very loudly,_ might I add, to..." She gestured to no one.

Wade sighed. People like that made him realize how rare it was that he'd come across someone like Peter in the first place.

How was he to know that his mind would start going south before everything else did? Not like he had any say in the matter.

Currently, he could parade around in public reasonably well appearance-wise, but socially? He was a lost cause.

He needed _no_ reminder of that fact.

Callously, he glared right back at her, and raised a hand to his ear as though he were talking into a cell phone earpiece. He really didn’t care if she believed it or not.

“I’m good.” He insisted.

" _Sure_ you are," She huffed, and turned her back as she picked up her suitcase and trotted towards another bus stop further down the line. "Can't even wait for a fricken' bus at night without the crazies coming out and mucking up the streets like they _own_ the place. I'm _sick_ of it." She continued cursing under her breath until she was out of earshot.

He chuckled to himself as he dropped his hand from his ear. “Ah, there it is. See that? That’s what I'm talking about. _That_ right there was _normal_ for me.” He raised his eyes to the night sky. “Anyways, it’s probably late enough now. The kid’s probably asleep, so—“

‘Why bother leaving if we were just going to go back?’

“I’m not going back."

‘Then why are we here?’

“I’m just... Well, I mean I’m not going back, like, _officially_."

Silence.

"Alright, yes. _Yes_ , I’m going back, but it’s not because I _want_ to. It’s just... I mean, he’s probably worried I’ve gotten my head stuck in something by now.”

Silence.

"Weasel thinks I don't tie up loose ends. If I _don't_ do this I'd be proving Weasel _right_. No one wants that."

Silence. Were the voices just being selective in when they felt like voicing an opinion, or...?

“Point is, I’m just gonna pop in, leave him with this parting gift, and then leave again. No big. My time's almost up-- that's no secret to _anyone_ anymore. There's no point in dragging this out any further."

It had been fun while it lasted, but this wasn't who he was. He was Deadpool, a no-nonsense gun for hire. The world’s finest mercenary, not home maker.

As soon as the serum in his system finally wore off completely, that truth would be made painfully clear whether he wanted to believe it or not.

 

* * *

 

Silently, and with his head held low, Wade pushed further through the apartment, and into Peter's room.

Wade pulled off the strap around his neck and rested the bag on Peter's bedside table. Inside was the brand new camera he was sure Peter sorely needed. "He won't even have to know it's from me."

'He'll guess. Most breaking and entry situations don't leave the victim with _more_  belongings afterwards'

'Our work's done here. Better get moving before he wakes up'

"Yeah, just... just gimme a minute." Wade strode slowly towards Peter's bedside and crouched down. "Man... how long's it been? I actually think I might end up missing this place a little."

Wade was now making little to no effort to keep his voice hushed.

Peter stirred slightly.

Wade remained stone-faced and deliberate.

'He's waking up.'

'We won't be able to slip out as seamlessly if he wakes up'

"That's true!" He said enthusiastically. "If he wakes up, I'll be bound by social obligation. I wouldn't be able to leave because I wouldn't be able to tell him where I was going. He'd just have all uh' those darn questions buzzing around. Not to mention it'd be damn rude," Wade said, raising a hand to Peter's face. "I wouldn't have any choice other than to stick around a while longer and say something," He gently grazed his fingertips against Peter's cheek. "That would be _disastrous_."

A soft, slightly irritated moan escaped Peter's lips as he squeezed his eyelids together.

Wade didn't withdraw his hand.

'This is creepy _and_ cutting it too close'

'We need to make a run for it. It's now or never'

"Now or never, " he sighed. "Yeah, I know... I know."

Somehow, internally, he just wasn't willing to accept that.

Frankly, he just wasn't too keen on spending the rest of his re-descent into madness alone.

He wondered if Peter would judge him as harshly as the rest of the general public did. In itself, the question seemed pointless. He knew Peter well enough by now to know the answer, but that didn't make it any more believable.

He knew there was another, much riskier option that could make or break the remainder of this relationship, though he immediately laughed the idea off.

There was no point in telling the truth _now_ , of all times, was there?

"Bye, Pete." He muttered, a defeated grin on his face.

His feet felt heavy as he made his way back to the bedroom door. He was just about to pull the door open  when he heard a confused, low grumble from over his shoulder.

"...Wade?"

He froze in place, unsure whether to celebrate or lament his sorry escape.

'Uh-oh'

'Maybe it was our imagination?'

"Wade," Peter repeated.

'So much for that theory'

'Just keep going'

'Its too late for that'

"Shut up," Wade muttered. "Can't hear myself think."

'Just say something'

"What could I possibly say?" He demanded.

' _Anything_ '

He turned slowly on his heel, keeping his limbs stiff as though there was a chance Peter's sight was based upon movement.

Their eyes locked immediately.

"Uh..." Wade uttered weakly. Some part of him hoped that that would suffice as an articulation of the situation.

'Say something _better than that_ '

Where would he begin? He couldn't even begin guess what Peter might have been thinking at that moment.

Of all the things he'd have liked to say at that moment, all he could muster was a single word.

"...Hi."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point on, I estimate that Wade'll be losing about a marble per chapter. Please watch your step.


	7. Better the Devil You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He fought for the words, but the battle raged short, and was lost."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one, folks. You might wanna sit down for this.

Wade had had three main presentiments as he finally, albeit forcibly, faced Peter in the kitchen.

He worried, first of all, that he wasn't missed. Second of all, that he'd be asked to leave. And third of all, that he _wouldn't_ be asked to leave. He saw no other easy way out of the situation.

Peter sat at the far end of the table while wade stood, leaning against the sink. The great divide between them was both literal and metaphorical, and they could both see it as clear as day.

"Thought I'd help myself to a can of your soup. Hope you don't mind." His spoon clinked and scraped against the inside of the can.

"No--no, go ahead."

"Great. I haven't eaten a thing since last night."

"Last night was a few hours ago."

"Hey, don't make fun of the insatiable void I have in place of a stomach. I'm _very_ self conscious about it."

"Um... well, I have a microwave, if you felt like heating that up." Peter didn't even crack a smile.

Wade stared down at the can. "S'alright. Palatable both ways."

"...Okay."

Again, a hush fell over the room. Of course, Wade needed to counter it.

"Y'know, I usually find myself feelin' kinda guilty after eatin' canned goods. It's like, if the apocalypse hit tomorrow, I bet I'd be looking back on this can of soup like it were my first fricken' prom with a girl, or a lotto win. Tomorrow, this can'd be something to fight over, y'know? You ever think about stuff like this?"

"I... well, I--"

"Really, despite the fact that this has to be the most milk-an'-water tasting alphabet soup I've ever had, my point remains. Like, are those peas? Does alphabet soup usually have peas? This' godawful in every capacity. Though, now that I think about it, come a cataclysmic event, the flavour would likely improve tenfold. Godawful today, just awful tomorrow, right?" He ate another spoonful. "Oh, god, there's _corn_ further down. Or, what I assume to be corn. Nope, changed my mind. Come apocalypse, I'd eat the silverware first. Still, interesting how a simple change in situation can alter the intrinsic nature of even seemingly mundane stock food items, huh?"

"Change and situation, huh...?" Peter grinned for an instant, then repressed the smile before it could really reach his eyes-- and before Wade could let his guard down. He practically saw the wheels turning in Peter's head, and he knew he understood more than Wade had intended to let on. The thought that he was, on some level, _understood_ by this kid was far more unsettling than comforting. Finally, Peter spoke, his tone leaving everything to the imagination. Now if only Wade didn't have such a wild, self deprecating imagination. "Wade, how come you left without saying anything?"

"I didn't. I left a note on your fridge. You mean you didn't find that?"

Peter shook his head.

A look of confusion spread over Wade's face. He left the mostly empty can on the counter and walked the few steps to the fridge where no note was present. "The hell? I left it right here with your hippo magnet." He crouched down and prodded the gap below the fridge. "Fuckin' A. Here it is."

Peter looked as if taken aback as Wade genuinely pulled free a small piece of paper and the magnetic hippo in question.

Wade glared as he held the magnet between two fingers. "Fuckin' weakass hippo. Make _me_ out to be a liar. I should introduce you to the garbage disposal." He walked back to the table and flicked the note into Peter's lap. Peter narrowed his eyes as he inspected the eloquent scrawl spread across the stationary. The words: 'See ya' followed by, in brackets, : _'Wouldn't wanna beeeee ya_ ,' seemed to taunt him from the page.

"When'd you even leave this here?"

"I 'unno. Was a while ago."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thanks for clearing that up. Now, was there something you needed, or did you just want an excuse to fire the hippo."

"Yeesh, who pissed in your corn flakes?" Peter stared up at him carefully, still refusing to give anything away. Was he angry? "Oh c'mon, Pete. You really didn't miss me at all? Not even a little?"

"You were gone?"

And that there confirmed his first fear. He knew Peter was joking, to some extent, and it would have been unreasonable for him to expect a greeting of any more than he'd received. Peter had a right to be angry. Didn't make it any less disappointing.

"Ouch." Wade said.

Peter looked remorseful for a second, and apparently wondered if he might have gone too far, but he wasn't about to apologize. He changed the subject.

"I, um... I tried to call you..."

"I wasn't anywhere with signal, my dear. I got that last message, though. In response, it's winter, Pete. The winged demons really should'a migrated by now."

"Listen, about last time--" Peter urged, steering the conversation more directly.

"Right. Last time." Wade wasn't eager to relive the day. He'd expected that many of the questions he raised that day wouldn't stay unchallenged. He decided if there was no skirting around it, he'd just start simple. "How are you... feeling? After, y'know... You good?"

"Good! Sure. I'm... I'm fine."

"Mhm. Good to... to hear."

Peter opened and then quickly shut his mouth, cautious of the words he wanted to use to proceed. He clearly still wasn't entirely sure how to react to or feel about Wade's unannounced visit.

"...Yeah." He said finally.

And suddenly, Wade could put words to the uncomfortable air that surrounded them. It was as though Peter was forcing unpleasant small talk with an old classmate, or a complete stranger. Was the relationship completely baseless, after all? Maybe their budding companionship lacked the strength to withstand the weight of all of Wade's misgivings.

He frowned. It was apparent to him that absence did not, in fact, make the heart grow fonder.

"Hey, now, don't look _too_ glad to see me." He said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Peter shrugged. "For a minute there, you looked almost more surprised to _be_ here than I was to see you here. I... really wasn't expecting you to come back at all, actually."

'Me either,' Wade thought. He didn't need to say it out loud, as Peter could apparently piece together what he was thinking.

"You... you weren't planning on dropping by, I presume?"

"Yeah, well... well--"

"Wait. Just hear me out, okay? I'm uh... I'm sorry about running off on you like that before. I know how that must have looked, but my intention wasn't--"

Really? _Peter_ was the apologetic one? That was an interesting revelation, to say the least. Wade had hardly even given that part of the day a second thought. "Dude, don't worry your pretty little head over it. That's how most of my dates seem to end, anyways. I'm startin' to think I might just not be the best host."

"Oh, please. I was actually having a lot of fun before that last bit. Again, my fault. I think I'll just stop bringing that up. Anyways, what's up? Did you need something? Forget something?"

"Um, speaking of why I'm here... I got you something." Wade said matter-of-factly. "You were probably wondering what I had in this bag I've been carrying around, right?" He'd kept the camera bag firmly at his waist since Peter woke up. If he was going to do this in person, he was adamant he'd decide upon the right time to whip it out. He held it in front of himself earnestly, as if waiting for Peter to react.

Peter slowly darted his eyes from the camera, and back to Wade again as shock crept onto his face. "No way," He said, raising his hands to the sleek, metallic object. "Wade, you..."

The look on Peter's face confirmed it for Wade-- he was _so_ glad he'd gotten to deliver it on personal terms. "See, it's big an' clunky like your old one, but this one's all digital an' fancy. You're on your own for figuring out the buttons, though."

"I-- I don't know what to say," Peter smiled sadly.

"Relax, dude." Wade snickered. "It's a camera, not an engagement ring. Granted, I could get you one of those too, if you want."

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

"Marry me, babe. Maybe we could move into an even _bigger_ closet."

"Ouch. Low blow, man." Peter placed a hand to his chest as if hurt. "It'd never work between us, Wade. You're a sarcastic asshole, whereas I'm... _charming_ and _witty_."

Wade dipped his head as he laughed. "Cocky lil' shit, ain'tya?"

"If you haven't noticed that by now, I clearly failed somewhere." Peter pressed buttons on the camera with a seasoned familiarity as he inspected the device. "Where'd you even get the money for this? This has to be one of the most expensive DSLR cameras on the market."

"It'd better be. I made some calls, an', uh..."

"D'you steal it?" Peter asked, his voice flat.

"No. I can honestly tell you it isn't _stolen_. I just got a good deal from... an associate? Let's say an associate."

"No deal could be that good."

"Sweetness, nothing's too expensive for you. 'Specially since I know without this trinket you'd be running around making camera noises for peanuts. Am I wrong?"

"Don't make me say it."

"So we're agreed, then. That aside, what do you think? D'you like it?"

Peter probably knew he wouldn't get an answer more specific than that. "Yes, but..." It was certainly shiny. And it was clearly new. Peter didn't seem to feel he'd done anything particularly worthy, but it was obvious he didn't want to flat out reject it, either. "...What's the occasion?"

"No occasion. Just a thanks for you bein' so good to me." Wade had the widest smile on his face. It made Peter's heart melt.

"Aw, Wade. You didn't have to--"

"Then fork it back over, man." Wade motioned to pluck the camera from Peter's hands. Peter recoiled defensively.

"Whoa, hold up! That's just a saying, dude-- no takebacks!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say."

Peter's expression softened as he held the camera closer to his chest. "All joking aside, you really didn't have to... but, thanks. You really saved my hide."

"...Ah, don't mention it." Wade crossed his arms over his chest. "Like... seriously. You didn't get that from me. You'll ruin my rep."

"Reputation?" Peter grinned. "What reputation?"

"Quirky, anarchistic, self-interested badass."

"Well I get the _ass_ part, but..."

"Don't make me hurt you." Wade pretended to scowl, finally taking the seat right next to Peter.

Peter responded in kind as he laughed, and pretended to shield himself. "Okay, okay, kidding! _Half_ kidding!" He teased.

This was how it was meant to be. Pleasant repartee, no awkward pauses. Once the bad news was out of the way, they were playing off of each other like old times-- which actually weren't as old as they'd seemed during the severance.

Maybe things could be like... the way they _were_ a while longer. Maybe he was being too hasty when he first left. If it was just a simple friendship, there was no harm in indulging a little longer.

At the time, he couldn't have foreseen how he'd grow to regret thinking that way.

"Sooo... what are you doing now?" Wade asked.

"Well, it's four in the morning. On my day off."

"Look at you being a functional member of society!"

"Yeah. But for now, I think I'll go back to dreaming about swimsuit models." He stood. "And... I guess you'll be taking off again, then?"

"Well, yeah."

" _Well_ , _yeeah_." Peter repeated in his best mocking tone.

"I mean, yeah, I'll have to leave again, and..." He cringed while saying the last bit. "And next time, I might not come back. At all. You'd never see me again. But for now...?"

Peter slumped his shoulders and knitted his eyebrow together, though he kept his tone guileless and frank. "For now? I think I'll go back to sleep, and you... you do whatever it is you do."

"Ah, don't be such a bringdown. What say you an' me go take the camera for a spin? I wanna see you in your zone."

"I-- I dunno..."

"This isn't a date, if that's what you're worried about. We won't do that again." Wade was partially kidding, but Peter seemed to genuinely disheartened. Wade figured he was probably just misreading his signals.

"Fine. We'll go." Peter said. "But what say we have breakfast and wait for a less ungodly hour?"

That was Wade's second fear allayed for the time being. He wasn't sure what he would do about the third.

 

* * *

 

"I don't get it. How the hell do you do this."

"Like this." Peter snatched the camera back from Wade and spent little time deciding upon a composition of a nearby pine-cone. The image was crisp, and eye catching.

It was clearly in no competition with the blurred, slightly panoramic image Wade tried to take of a nearby squirrel which seemed to have sneezed at just the right moment.

Wade peered at the screen over Peter's shoulder. He looked exasperated. "How the _hell_ did you do that?!"

"What a noob." Peter navigated the complex layout like he'd owned the camera for years. It actually felt good to show off. It felt good to have someone show interest, too. Wade acted as though Peter were some sort of a magician, and he truly reveled in the acknowledgement. The impressiveness of Spider-man aside, by now, Peter Parker was a darn good photographer.

Peter scooted closer to Wade on the park bench. "See? It's easy, once you get the hang of it. Most of these buttons are optional-- the camera does all of the hard stuff. If you wanna change the exposure, for example, all you gotta do is--"

"Humbug," Wade grumbled. "You're probably using hacks or some shit."

Peter smiled, and squinted as he put the camera to his eye and raised it to Wade's face. "Say cheese."

"Yeah, no," Wade put a finger to the lens and lowered it's view to the ground. "That's not happening."

"Whaaat? Aren't I even allowed to get a picture of my best bud before you-- how did you put it?" Peter made air quotes with his free hand. "Before you ' _leave forever_ '? I even promise I'll get your good side."

"I don't have a good side. We'd be here all day."

Peter raised the camera again. "No, I'd say it's your left."

Wade lowered the lens once more. "Pete, the last thing I need right now is my ugly mug immortalized on camera."

Peter looked puzzled. "Well, I'm no modeling scout, especially when it comes to... well, _dudes_ , but I really don't think you're at all unfortunate looking, to say the least. Like, really."

Wade stared blankly, as though in sudden, bitter self awareness, and then cracked a smile while shaking his head slowly. "I forgot," He exclaimed. "Imagine that! For a minute there, I actually _forgot_."

"...Forgot what?" Peter asked, visibly concerned by Wade's sudden outburst.

Wade waved him off. "Just what is it about this kid? Gonna be the death of me," He said, mostly inaudibly.

Peter sighed.

"Wade, are you alright?"

"Fine, why d'you ask?"

"You've just seemed kinda... _off_ , ever since you got back."

"Oh, yeah? Good off or bad off?"

"Just... off."

"Well, that's funny. I don't feel all that different. In fact, I feel more like myself than I have in ages."

"Well, I mean-- don't get me wrong, you're clearly still _you_ , but I feel like... Wade, if there's something on your mind, you don't have to worry about letting me know. We're friends, okay? I've literally _sutured_ your stomach back together. If that isn't trust, I don't know what is."

In that moment, he really looked like he was considering each of Peter's words carefully. Wade looked Peter dead in the eye.

"L... listen, Peter, this... this could never... It's just that you... you're so... but I'm... I just-- just--" He fought for the words, but the battle raged short, and was lost. He then, with visible vexation on his face, broke eye contact and stared into the distance. "Nah... forget it. You just don't understand." He raised his hand to his face and pressed his fingers into his temple. "...You just don't _get_ it."

For Peter, that spoke volumes. Wade genuinely wanted to get something off his chest. He just _couldn't_. For now, _why_ didn't matter.

Peter removed Wade's cold hand from his face and held it in his own, forcing them to see eye to eye again.

"Wade, I--"

"Well, if it isn't 'Puny Parker'!" Sounded a voice in a loud, obnoxious tone. Peter froze, glancing over his shoulder.

Not today. Why _today_ of all days? He could take some scrutiny, but he didn't want Wade to bear witness or worse yet, get himself involved.

He turned back to Wade, hoping he hadn't noticed Flash and his gang approaching, but he already had his head cocked in the direction of the heckling.

"Wade, c'mon..." Peter tugged on Wade's arm. "Let's go, okay?"

He expected that if they left then, Flash would eventually lose interest. He couldn't trust that Wade wouldn't unnecessarily spread blood in the waters to keep the group circling. Wade firmly held his ground, and plainly wormed his hand out of Peter's and back into his pocket.

"Sorry. Hand's getting kinda cold. You were right, I really oughta invest in some gloves. I'll add it to my 'to buy' list." His expression was dull, and unchanging.

Just like that, Wade was back to his usual self. Peter wasn't sure what he expected, but whatever it was, Flash had effectively ruined the mood.

Wade continued, unperturbed and seemingly oblivious to the moment they'd just shared. "So. ' _Puny Parker_ ', huh? Really? Well, I give him points for the alliteration, but it's still a lacking vocalization of your stature overall. I, personally, would say your build is more athletic than puny anyhow."

"Dude, seriously, let's just go, alright?" Peter pulled Wade away with more force. They finally stood, but it was too late to evade the inevitable.

"Puny Parker! I was sure I could smell ya a mile away."

Peter feigned a smile. He already had a comeback ready. "Hi, Flash. I see you're--"

"Ah, cram it, blondie." Wade chimed, apparently incognizant to the fact that the insult applied to him as well. "Why not just take his fuckin' lunch money, while you're at it?"

"The hell'd you just say?" Flash demanded.

"I said 'Hi, I'm Wade'! How's it going?"

"Hey, we've got a comedian over here!" He exclaimed. "And who's _this_ supposed to be, Parker? Your bodyguard? Baby sitter?" He smirked. "Or your _boyfriend_?"

"Hah! Hell no." Wade laughed, not missing a beat.

The words stung. Not just _no_. He had to make a point of saying _hell_ , no. It was true, of course. There wasn't anything special between them. They could hardly even be classified as _friends_. But the fact that Wade could deny that fact so frankly... was disheartening.

"He's an alright kid, though." Wade pressed on.

It was surreal. Wade actually seemed to tower over the ' _infamous Flash_ ' in both stature and build. Flash appeared bush-league before him.

Peter simply faded behind him. "Yep, he's definitely on my good list, this kid. And, might I add, it's a fuckin'. _Short. List_." Wade glared into Flash's eyes. Flash's tough-guy expression soon melted away into panic. He paled immediately and looked to the side.

Wade looked back to Peter. "Okay, _now_ we can go." He started away. Peter followed warily behind him.

"Flash, the hell was that?" Whispered one of Flash's backers. "You completely froze up! We coulda' taken 'im!"

"Didn't you see the look in that mental case's _eyes_?" Flash responded seriously. "I think the dude genuinely wanted to... to _kill_ me."

 

* * *

 

"Wade," Peter growled. "Dammit, Wade, would you look at me!"

" _What?_ " He snapped back.

"Don't _what_ me. The hell was that!?"

"What was what? You were there, you saw what happened. _Not a thing_."

"You promised me you wouldn't get involved. You said--"

"I never even laid a finger on the guy. I wasn't even the one who instigated a confrontation. Am I wrong?"

"You know that's not what I mean." Peter glared. "I don't need you to fight my battles for me. I was surviving perfectly fine on my own before you--" He stopped himself before the next words could leave his mouth. "What I mean is, I've been dealing with Flash on my own for years now--"

"I see how that's been working for you."

"You know what? It _has_! Even if Flash weren't as painfully easy to outwit as he is, some of us don't need to resort to violence or... or _scare tactics_ to get a point across."

"Well, colour me impressed! But, come on, my way has been tried an' proven. I really don't think he'll be back on your case any time soon."

"'Justice rendered through force thus renders all justice unjust'. You can't _bully_ people into behaving the way you want them to."

"Oh, really?" Wade scoffed. "Honestly, Pete. Why not just _cut_ the damn Gordian knot? All I did was--"

"I never asked you to do that. I never wanted that."

Wade chuckled unceremoniously. "I did."

Peter clenched his hands into fists as he glared up at Wade with disappointment. "Well. You've successfully stooped to his level and asserted your dominance as alpha-male. I hope you're satisfied."

"Oh, I didn't _just_ stoop to his level, Pete. I probably stooped a few levels lower. That was the _point_ , smart-one. I went there so you wouldn't have to."

Peter tilted his head in confusion. "Why would you..."

"'Speak softly an' carry a big stick', right? I did it because no one wants to do the hard thing. So I shoulder the burden, an' then I shoulder the consequences. In this case, it's you, giving me flak, _right_ now. I knew I'd never have to actually fight the guy."

"...Yeah? And how'd you know that?"

"Not even an idiot'll pick a fight he knows he can't win."

His words chilled Peter to the core.

"Can we go now?" Wade asked. Peter stood his ground, his anger unwavering. Wade placed an arm over his shoulder. "Aw, c'mon, Pete. You're the one who said it, right? We're _friends_ , aren't we? An' what are friends for? Friends stick together! What kind of a friend would I be if I just shoved my head in the sand when--"

For Peter, that was the straw that broke the camel's back. He swatted Wade's arm away. "What point are you trying to make?!" He shouted. "I'm not stupid, Wade. I could see that you were just using me from day one."

"...You've known that from day one? Seriously? Then how come you let me stick around?"

"It never had anything to do with... I just... it was the right thing to do. I didn't care what your intentions were. A person's life isn't worth the status of BFF's. I was going to help you regardless."

"If you knew, an' it didn't bother you, then what's the problem?"

"It didn't. It _didn't_ bother me. But now..." The content of his own words startled him. Apparently Wade picked up on his dubiety.

"...But now what?"

Peter was quickly losing the plug on his resolve, but he couldn't stop himself. Everything he wanted to say had been building up to a boiling point. He'd had too much time to over think, and not nearly enough time to speak his mind.

"By now I thought we were friends. I thought--" He should have stopped there. He should have, but it just didn't feel like an option. "You know what I don't get? Why'd you even bother coming back? You didn't have to like me, but you didn't have to _pretend_ to like me, either. The camera, the... the _date_. Why go this far? Is this all some game to you? All this time, and that's all I am?"

Wade looked like he was slapped across the face. " _Pretend_ to like you? Why would I bother wasting my energy on _pretending_ to like you?" Peter curled his lips into a scowl. That kinda hurt. He already figured as much, but hearing Wade confirm it like that made it take on new life.

"Shit, no, that-- that's not what I meant." Wade tried. "It came out wrong. That sounded _way_ less passive aggressive in my head. What I mean is-- I don't... really _need_ you anymore."

Oh, yeah. That was _much_ clearer.

"Okay." Peter said. "Yeah. That's okay. I'm glad we've finally put that into words. Wade, if you're back on your feet, then my job is done, and I'm _happy_. So you know what? That's great to hear." Peter turned and walked ahead of Wade, but he neglected to say goodbye.

Wade followed behind him.

"I mean I don't need you playing nurse or anything. I don't need--"

"I get it, Wade."

"Just hear me out, okay? What I'm trying to say is... I don't need... I don't need to _use_ you anymore." That vocalization brought Peter to a halt. Wade stepped back in front of him. "If I'm honest? Yeah, when we first met, I took you for an easy mark. An' I was right. You _were_ an easy mark. You took like, _no_ persuasion before-- well... you know. Point is, that's not the case anymore."

"Then why are you _here_? Why _now_?"

Wade inhaled deeply. "You're alright company an' I've got nowhere better to be at present."

"If it's all the same to you, then why me?"

"...Take too long to condition anyone else."

A pause.

That certainly sounded brutally honest. It wasn't really what Peter wanted to hear at the time, but it was enough.

Wade's eyes tried to read Peter's face. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"I am."

Another pause.

Peter snickered, then looked sheepishly off to the side. "But, y'know... that back there with Flash? Not gonna lie, you were actually kinda cool. It was kinda neat he realized he wasn't the top dog he thought he was. The look on his face was _priceless_." Peter clutched his camera strap. "Almost wish I'd snapped a picture."

"Ah, so you admit it! If you didn't already think I was a badass, I bet you do _now_. For the record, no one's allowed to talk to you like that 'cept me."

"Why's it okay when you do it?"

"That's 'cause when _I_ do it, you know it's all endearment, nerd."

Oddly enough, it was true. Wade's antics and his often cruel sense of humor never much bothered Peter, because of _exactly_ that reason. Peter knew that Wade didn't wanna hurt him-- which meant he had to _care_ , in some capacity, right?

...Was that what Wade was trying to say?

"Yeah, whatever." Peter shrugged. "But don't ever do it again. Ever. Or else. You ever pull a stunt like that again and I'll--"

" _Please_. An' you'll what? You've got a two pack an' some pea shooters. You're about as threatening as a chihuahua."

"Hey, don't underestimate me! I know where you live. Or, at least, I _knew_ where you..." He quieted briefly. "...Look, I'm sorry I was so short with you. That was all kinda uncalled-for."

"Kinda."

"And, I mean, I _know_ you mean well."

"...Do you?" Wade asked, unconvinced.

Peter didn't have to take too long to think about his answer. "Yeah."

The gap between them was still evident. They both chose to ignore it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This' like, three chapters for the price of one. Go me!


	8. Any Port in a Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well'sa 'bout time someone said it, huh?

Everything started off pretty normal. They were just sitting on the couch, shooting the bull as they would have any other day. Wade told a joke. He didn't remember what it was, but Peter laughed. That felt pretty nice.

Then, suddenly, the mood got all weird, and Peter was reaching towards Wade's face. Wade's heart kinda fluttered when he fully grasped the situation. He didn't really know why.

Then, Peter said something-- or, it seemed like maybe he _asked_ something, but it came out really quiet for some reason, and Wade couldn't make out the words. Then he realized what it was Peter was reaching for.

It was his mask. Peter was lifting Wade's _mask_. Only now did Wade realize he was even _wearing_ his mask, and that had to mean that he was...

He wanted to pull away, but he was kinda frozen in place. Everything seemed hazy, but he could clearly see the timid curiosity Peter seemed to exude. To some extent, the feeling was mutual. He wasn't sure what to think. He wasn't sure what Peter would think, but he was pretty sure he needed to know. He wanted a definitive answer.

The sheer horror he saw on Peter's face was answer enough, and the affirmation wasn't even _almost_ worth allaying what he suspected would have been the response all along.

Peter immediately dropped the mask and Wade was pretty sure Peter let out some kinda scream or something but he still couldn't really hear a damn thing. It was awful. He knew it was. He kept telling Peter not to look but his pleas fell on deaf ears. He wanted to hurry up and cover his damn face with his hands to spare the kid the extra nightmares but he felt like me must have had weights attached to his arms. His pulse was racing and he couldn't really breathe all that well. All he could do was shut his eyes.

Sound seemed to gradually come back to him as he heard Peter's panicky voice ringing in his ears.

"Wade-- Wade, are you okay?" He asked. Wade felt Peter take a hold of his shoulders. It sent chills down his spine.

He was filled with both immense grief and immense rage. At the time, they felt one and the same.

His eyes immediately shot open. "Damnit, don't fucking _look_!" He snarled, practically crushing Peter's wrist in his hand.

"Whoa, Wade, it's me! Let-- let go!" Peter tore his arm out of Wade's grip, peering down at him with more worry than anger.

"Oh, shit-- shitshitshit... sorry." Wade gasped. "I was just... um..." His heart sank when he realized, once again, he wasn't wearing his mask. He turned his body away from Peter and ran his hands over his face. His skin was still abnormally smooth. The revelation didn't come as much of a comfort.

"You... looked like you were having a nightmare or something so I just wanted to wake you," Peter murmured, rubbing his wrist. He was keeping his distance now. "Everything okay, man?"

"...I'm fine." Obviously he wasn't fine. No one wakes up screaming as an expression of how absolutely hunky-dory they are. That nightmare seemed way too damn real, and it hit _way_ too damn close to home. He could honestly say he was having a pretty shit morning all around.

He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. He felt disoriented, like he'd just gotten off of a tilt-a-whirl; he hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep on the couch.

"Are you sure? If you wanna talk about it--"

"I don't. I said I'm _fine_ , alright?" The lie didn't get any more convincing the more he said it. At the moment, he couldn't have been any less fine if he were to spontaneously combust. "...Shouldn't you be off taking pictures or something?" He said coldly. He didn't really want to be alone, but hell, why stop contradicting himself now? He was on a roll.

"I was just about to, but... what can I say? I've got priorities." Peter smiled that impossible-to-hate smile of his. It made Wade feel around ten times shittier. He really hated it when he snapped at Peter. He hated it more when Peter had to go and be an understanding little dweeb about it. It left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Hey-- hold up," He stopped Peter before he could leave. "Sorry I tried to break your arm or whatever. That probably wasn't cool of me. I really am alright, though. I am. I'm right as fuckin' rain. I... look, can... can we pretend none of that just happened?"

"...Sure. Water under the bridge." With that, he was out the door.

Wade's heart started doing that squirmy thing again, but this time it wasn't in reaction to having Peter so close. "Fuck," He sighed. "Kid's probably going to think I'm crazy."

'He wouldn't be wrong'

"But he doesn't have to _know_ that."

 

* * *

 

Who says crime never sleeps? Spider-man was beginning to wonder if he missed the memo for 'National Good Samaritan Day'.

The most eventful thing to come out of his afternoon thus far was a purse snatching. Immediately after laying eyes on Spider-man, the perp seemed to have had the epiphany of a lifetime, and proceeded to return the purse, apologize profusely, call the cops, kiss a baby, and solute the flag.

...Alright, maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but the point remained.

Normally, in Spider-man's world, this would be a wholly welcome deviation from a regular afternoon. It would mean that he could pack up and go home a bit earlier than usual. Today, however, the freedom felt more constricting than anything else.

He was adamant it wasn't what it sounded like. It's not like he was _avoiding_ Wade or anything. It was more complicated than that.

Apparently, every joke contains within it a kernel of truth. If that were the case, there'd been enough underhanded 'truth' flying between them to supply an entire movie theater.

In the past while, Wade rarely stuck around for an extended period of time.  Each time he returned, they'd always resume where they left off. Not seamlessly, but considering Wade's 'information on a need-to-know basis' policy, they came eerily close. Peter acted like it didn't bother him, because it probably shouldn't, but... it did.

For the most part, they could behave the same around each other, taking jabs and poking fun, but there was far less actual joking involved. Instead, it became more about not-so-subtly pushing the envelope.

It was clear that Wade had some demons, but reassuring him was never an easy feat. Peter didn't enjoy the whole 'pretending it never happened' spiel, but he didn't have many ways of getting around it. After the morning's antics, he decided he'd check up on him-- just to make sure he was hanging in there.

That, and there was also a fraction of a chance he just wanted an excuse to hear from the guy. He pulled out his phone and dialed. "...Hello?" he said.

" _Seven daaaaays_..." Rasped the voice on the other end.

Spider-man chuckled lightly. "Dude, that joke only works if _you're_ the one calling _me_."

"Can't blame an indiscriminately vengeful apparition for trying. What'dyou want, muffin skillet?"

"And here I was thinking you had to be running out of nicknames."

"You wish. Hell will freeze over, defrost, and then freeze again before that happens."

"Heh, yeah. So... I was just calling to..."

"Checking up on me?"

Wow. Wade could be really quick on the uptake when he wanted to be. "No, no... just... just lettin' ya know I'll be later getting home today."

"...Oh-- alrighty, then."

"Yeah. Still got a lot to finish up here, and..." He realized how paradoxical it was that he was talking to Wade to avoid talking to Wade, but he was low on alternatives. "...Did you maybe want me to pick anything up on the way back?"

"Mm... surprise me."

"So... pizza it is?"

"You know me so well, Pete." Wade sing-songed.

That comment really irritated Spider-man for some reason. "Oh, yeah?" He replied with weak amusement. "Coulda' fooled me."

Wade was about to respond when someone on Spider-man's end suddenly yelled, "Hey, Spider-man! Nice job in the stickup the other day, man! You da _bomb_!"

He waved to the citizen warily. He was _sure_ Wade must have heard that. Thinking quickly, he spoke hurriedly into the receiver. "Sorry, sounds like the Web-Head must have passed overhead or something. I should go. Talk later."

"Uh... whatever you say," He said skeptically. "I'll see ya--"

Spider-man hung up. He hissed and flexed his hands as the frigid air stung his fingers. He suddenly felt awfully cold.

He changed out of his suit in an alley nearby, and headed home.

 

* * *

 

"Guess that settles it then, huh? You really do stick around if there's a promise of food." Peter could see now that Wade wasn't all that amused by his derision.

"Next you should try leaving a milkshake in the yard. See how fast I'll flock back here then."

"I'll keep that in mind," He said, placing the pizza box on the coffee table. "Guess this'll have to do for now."

Wade snickered as he opened the lid on the pizza box. "You're too good to me, Pete. How is it you still don't have a girlfriend?"

"I'm not exactly going to be inviting girls over when there's a chance you'll be lounging half-naked on my couch. Think that'd send the wrong message."

"Right..." Wade looked at him dolefully, before glancing away. "...How was your day, butterbun?" He said suddenly.

It was a sweet question, but it wasn't one Peter could answer. "Ah, you don't care about my day." He mumbled

"I don't care but I'll listen," Wade replied, an irritatingly innocent candor to his voice. He took Peter's silence as an invitation to continue. "Well, how was _my_ day, you ask? Lemme tell ya. This' the story of my fuckin' life right here. Christ almighty, the unequivocal summary of my fuckin' life. My life in ten minutes or less or your pizza is free--"

" _Alright_ , already," Peter dropped his shoulders tiredly, but he chose not to join Wade on the couch. "I'm on the edge of my seat, here. Out with it."

"So I was playing 'Red Dead' earlier, right? An' I figure I'll go about it like a good guy. There's this one dude with a bounty on his head, so I hop on my horse an' I go lookin' for the perp. Pretty soon I see the guy, right? I see the guy, an' I'm _so_ damn positive he's the right guy, so _bam_. I kill 'em. An' guess what?"

"It wasn't the guy."

"Wasn't the fuckin' guy. So I see some other dude, 'kay? I kill him. It wasn't the guy. I figure third time's the charm, but nope! Next guy is, surprise surprise, the wrong guy, an' now _I'm_ the one with a bounty on my head. I'm pretty sure my bounty was higher than the bounty on the guy I was houndin'. Anyway, at this point, the Feds are on my tail, an' I'm still chasin' some _other_ other guy I think might be _the_ guy. It was like some 'Yakety Sax' Ben Hill level crime fighting all around. I tried to turn myself in. Honest. I truly did. They were havin' none of it. Guess there's no talking your way out of many, many civilian casualties. Now, here's the clincher. The coup de fuckin' grâce." He had to pause. He looked like he was actually distraught for a minute there. "I ended up having to kill just about everyone. An' I mean _everyone_. Was a massacre. I was just tryin'a help. I'm almost always just tryin'a _help_."

"Did... Did you ever manage to get the guy?" Peter was more hooked on the tragic tale than he felt he should have been.

"Oh, I got him alright." Wade said proudly. "I introduced the fucker to his long overdue comeuppance, yessiree. I don't really remember what he did per se, but I assume the sunovabitch had it coming." In Wade's mind, that fact seemed to make up for everything that happened prior. "Hey, what say you have a seat an' you can help me 'Red Dead Redeem' myself?" He patted the couch cushion next to himself.

"Ugh, jeez! That was terrible!" Peter laughed. "I... I'd like to stick around, really... but another time, 'kay? I've got some work to do, so... I think I'll just head to my room and call it a day."

"Ain'tchya even gonna eat? God knows I could finish the whole pizza myself, but you may as well take a slice first, right?"

"Ahh... I'm not all that hungry."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You don't... don't wanna sit for five minutes, an'..."

"I've just got an early day tomorrow, and... so..."

"Fine, have it your way." He shrugged. "Gonna gimme a kiss goodnight before ya go?"

"Nope."

"Can I get a handshake?"

"Wade--"

"Can't you--"

" _Wade_. You're pushing it."

He smiled cheekily as he raised a slice of pizza to his mouth. "Aw, c'mon, man, you can't deny our chemistry. We _totes_ have a connection."

"I'm not denying our chemistry. I'm denying you." Peter said, striding towards his room and pulling the door shut behind him. The statement left Wade dumbfounded.

"You're not denying our... wait, what?"

 

* * *

 

Naturally, solitude didn't last long. It's not like he really needed to study all that hard, and Wade knew it. Peter mostly needed the time alone so he could avoid sending the wrong messages. He didn't realize at the time, but his detachment was sending a very _wrong_ message in and of itself. Naturally, Wade was having none of it. Maybe this was his way of showing concern.

"Didn't know you wore glasses," He said, as he leaned over the back of Peter's chair. "I mean, I coulda' guessed, but--"

"I do... I _did_. I don't really need to use them to _see_ anymore, though. Mostly wear them when I'm stressed. Helps sometimes. I don't know why."

"What's got you so stressed?" He tilted Peter's chair backwards far enough to look into his eyes.

Peter kicked his legs to steady himself back onto the ground. "Well, I'm working, you see. And I'd quite like to get this finished and all, so..."

"Nope, nuh-uh. That's not your 'Wade, piss off so I can work' face. That's your 'emotional inner turmoil' face. There's a difference."

"...Wade, I betchya I'll be feeling peppy enough to dance around a maypole as soon as I get this finished. It will be miraculous. That's still assuming I get this finished, though."

Wade exhaled sadly. "You said that yesterday, Pete. Not like I'm attention starved. Well, maybe I am, but I'm not _just_ attention starved. The point is--"

"What, _you_? Get outta here. I bet you've got all the ladies after you. Like that girl from the back at the café, for instance." Well, that was smooth. That line practically gave peanut butter a run for its money.

"...Café? You mean the busty waitress lady from a while back?" Wade asked casually. "What's she got to do with...?"

"Ah, forget it." Peter said. He clearly couldn't spot the opportune moment to shut up, however, and continued in his FBI level interrogation. "But... she clearly seemed to like you. I mean she _did_ give you her phone number and all. You two were getting on famously-- I can't imagine why you haven't called her yet. Uh... have you...?"

"Hm. Yeah, I guess she seemed like a nice enough girl. I wonder if I'd get more free shit if I headed back over there one of these days."

Peter wanted to slam his face into his desk. And this has been a lesson in shooting yourself in the foot 101, by Peter Parker. And the crowd goes wild. What an idiot. "I'm just... I've gotta finish this, okay? We'll hang out later, maybe, or--"

"Dude, what's your problem? What's got you wound so tight?" Wade said, swiveling Peter's chair around and pulling him into a hug as he had so many times in the past. "You stay out later than usual then you run to your room as soon as you get here. Signals like that? A guy might think you were _avoiding_ him or somethin'."

"Wade, I'm not... not..." Wade didn't hold him too tightly, but Peter felt this enormous pressure building in his chest. It was a simple hug. He should have been used to it by then. It never meant anything, but now, something was different. "Damn it, get offa me--!" He blurted out. He put his hands up against Wade's chest and shoved him an impressive distance backwards. He hadn't meant to use that much force. He hadn't meant to shove away him _at all_ \-- it was involuntary, but somehow, he just couldn't bring himself allow Wade any closer. His jaw just hung open. "Sorry," He said. "I just... sorry."

The surprise on Wade's face was soon lost to a forced grin. "So I take it we're not there yet."

"I... that's not..."

"What, you're not scared of little ol' me, are ya?" Wade likely meant it to come across as a joke, but his voice suggested he was somewhat serious in the allegation.

Peter wasn't at all scared of Wade.

At present, he was only frightened of himself. It scared him how worried he'd been while Wade was gone the first time. It scared him how happy he'd been when Wade came back.

It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure this out.

Peter slowly shook his head. Whatever Wade was thinking, it wasn't right. Even so, Peter didn't have an explanation to give.

"Hey, I gotchya. You're probably just grumpy that I'm encroaching in on your bachelor pad. No big. It's cool, y'know, if you want me to leave or whatever. You won't break my poor lil' delicate porcelain heart."

"What? No!" He practically yelled, but his voice came out as more of a squeak. "No, that's not it! That's not it at _all_."

"But you admit there is _somethin_ ' hauntin' ya?"

"Nothing you have to worry yourself over."

"Alright, alright," He shrugged. "I'll get outta yer hair." With that, Wade turned and left.

Peter groaned, and a while later followed him back into the living room. Wade had already resumed their game. Peter swallowed hard, and sat opposite him on the couch.

"Hey."

"Yo."

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"...Why'd you kill that guy?" Peter looked on in consternation of Wade's aggressive play-style.

"He was blockin' the doorway."

"And why'd you kill _that_ guy?"

"He was lookin' at me funny."

"But now you have all of the NPC's aggro'd! _Even_ the quest guy!"

"I'll admit. This may not have been my best plan."

"That was a plan?"

"I just _do_ things, Pete. I'm an on the fly kinda guy."

"Yeah, don't I know it." Peter said, not shy about the spiteful edge to his voice. He didn't mean to keep prying into the subject, but it was getting harder and harder to act like there was nothing eating away at him. "...Look, I'm sorry, by the way--"

"Psh. Sorry ain't gonna cut it here. I see you stopped playing right at one of the difficult instances. Not cool, man."

"Heh, yeah, I... I figured you could probably deal with that, but I also figured... figured that maybe if you came _back_ we could just..." His voice became quiet, and strained. "We could just pick up where we left off...?"

"...Oh." Wade didn't respond further. They sat in silence a while longer before Wade sighed and turned to look at Peter. "Listen, Pete, if you've got something to say, then--"

"We need to talk," Peter blurted out. "I mean, you deserve the truth, right? If nothing else, you deserve that much."

"Uh..."

"At least _one_ of us needs to be honest here, and if it's all the same no matter what I say, I may as well get this off my chest."

"Sure."

"My apartment feels a lot bigger when you're not here."

"...Oooooookay."

"And... and I never really _noticed_ that until you got here. I mean... _you're_ my problem. It's true, okay? It's true that you're a big part of why I'm so... _agitated_ these days. Or, at least that's what I _thought_ , but now I'm realizing that _I_ might be the only one making things more complicated than they need to be. Maybe _I'm_ the reason it's been this tense between... between _us_."

"Yuh-huh."

"I just don't know how to talk to you anymore. Well, maybe I _do_ , but everything's different now. It's like I don't remember how we used to interact."

"Mhmm."

"I get b-butterflies to the point where what I wanna say doesn't come out right anymore. Ever since you got back, I... I see you differently. I'm just really... aware of everything now, you know?"

"Peter. Point. Get to it."

"It's just been really frustrating! I see you when you're in a bad state sometimes and I want to be there, but I can't. The way things are now, I _can't_. Does that make sense?"

"I-- wait, what was my fault? The hell're you even..." Wade looked at him like he was speaking another language. Peter was so flustered, he may as well have been.

"I've been afraid to tell you this... I didn't know how you'd react, but..."

"Dude, if you're kicking me out then just _do_ it already. I can't fuckin'  _stand_ suspense. Like when you're watching a horror movie an' they spend, like, an hour slow-walking through their house snottin' an' cryin' all over the place. Like we get it, you're scared. Cut to the axe murder or the bludgeoning or whatever. But they don't. Instead, they start whisperin' stuff like 'golly-gee, I'm really content with being alive right now. It'd suck if for some reason that were to stop being the case,' as though the murderer's actually gonna spring from the closet twirling his mustache an' say 'nice organs. It'd be a shame if something were to happen to them.' That never happens. Almost never."

"I'm not kicking you out, you goof!" Peter exclaimed, turning to face Wade more directly. "Wade-- I'm, uh... maybe I haven't said this often enough. Maybe you don't even want to hear this from me, but... I'm really glad I happened to be walking by that night, y'know..."

The silence stretched out over a few more moments before Wade finally spoke. "Yeah... yeah, okay. S'mutual, I guess."

"I mean it, Wade," He moved in closer. Wade didn't seem to notice. "You can... stay, you know. Here. As long as you need to. Or... want to, whatever."

"I believe you. I still don't really get your reasoning for any of this-- the best I can guess is that you're running for next pope or something-- but I believe you."

"You'd have done the same for me."

" _Then_? Realistically? Probably not. Now? Sure, but... even that's kinda up in the air. You can guarantee I wouldn't be letting you stay in my place free of charge. Hell, I probably would've withheld a _band-aid_. As a matter of fact, half of the people in this city probably would've stepped over your bloodied corpse." He said quite seriously. "It's just what people _do_. Knowing then what you know now-- given a second chance, would you have..."

" _Especially_ knowing what I know now, you _dingus_! You shouldn't even have to ask me that!" He moved closer once again. Wade seemed to notice that time. His eyes widened, though he didn't try to lean away. He looked anxious-- petrified, even. Peter had to finish what he had so clumsily started. "I just... what I'm trying to tell you is that I..."

Wade laughed nervously. "...H-hey, Peter, what are you--?" The game controller clattered to the ground as a bright red 'game over' screen glowed against their faces in the dark. "I mean you can't really..."

Peter slowly parted his lips. His heart was beating out of his chest. "I-- I like... you," He blushed a deep shade of red as he buried his face in his hands. "I do. Or, at least I'm pretty sure, and... and m-maybe in that way... I... I don't know. It's complicated-- this' all new to me, but..."

"...Really?" Wade repeated, as if hoping to hear a different answer. That time, Peter remained silent. The smile immediately fell from Wade's face, and soon, he was pinching his own arm so hard the skin began to bruise. "...Wow. Oh, wow. Wow. I don't know what to say, I... I should go."

That was exactly what Peter was afraid to hear. "But... but, why--" He babbled, filled with alarm and confusion.

Wade shook his head. "I don't have an excuse. I really don't. I didn't think this far ahead. I didn't..." His voice became dark, and distant. "...Peter, I-- I have some thinking to do. I'll see ya tomorrow, okay?" He started towards the door, and was gone without waiting for a response.

Peter wasn't sure if he regretted what he'd just admitted to.

He glanced back at the tv screen, which was still illuminated with that foreboding message.

 

* * *

 

'How _do_ we feel about him?'

"I dunno," Wade said.

And he meant it.

In the beginning, he'd have said anything to the kid just to get a leg up, but he never ended up really needing to. It became more about seeing what he could do to get a rise out of Peter than anything. He never stopped to wonder if it actually meant anything.

And suddenly, he found himself thinking about what it would be like-- dating Peter. The kid never got to eat out much. It complimented Wade's need to spoil the kid, so maybe they'd visit a swanky restaurant or something. Then, they might catch a bad movie, or go ice skating and he'd laugh while Peter fell on his _ironically_ uncoordinated ass and then they'd go get hot chocolate or _anything_.

It would be like it is now, but if they were dating, he wouldn't have to feel guilty about any of it.

He found himself thinking that that would feel pretty nice. He couldn't shake the smile from his face, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Naturally, he was getting all sorts of stares from the local rubberneckers, but there wasn't a force on earth that could sour his starry-eyed delusions.

The sea of people seemed to part for him as though whatever he had was infectious. Maybe it was.

The fact that the thought made him feel that way made him depressed as hell in the same breath. He hated that he felt the way he did, and he almost hated Peter for making him feel that way.

It was all fantastical, idealistic chatter. It was finally sinking in that he wouldn't have the time to do any of that now.

He had to change the subject.

He wound up sitting on another park bench, and wondering how that was where he always seemed to end up. In movies, it's where people go when they need to think about something important. His best guess was that this was that, but the act didn't seem to transfer into reality. The bench was hard on the tush, cold, and an awful place to catch up on 'me time', what with unwitting audience. It was fine when he was with Peter, though. A guy like Peter could make you forget the bench was even there.

"Holy fuck," He laughed. "I really never should'a said I'd go back tomorrow. I never shoulda gone back in the first place. I never..."

"Looks like someone escaped Arkham," A couple giggled together as they walked past. "Ugh... why do the crazies always have to come out at night?"

"This is New York, pal! Us crazies come out during the day, too!" He called back.

They picked up their pace.

'They're lucky it isn't a full moon out tonight. It's the were-crazies you gotta look out for'

"The kid's really dodging a bullet, ain't he? Shame I'm both the bullet _and_ the hair-trigger gun." His smile grew wider. "Still can't believe that the kid actually _likes_ me, though."

'That's bad'

"Can't I just have this one thing? Sure, I can't stick around forever, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now? If that don't paint a beautiful picture of what the future coulda' been, I don't know what does."

'That's what's bad'

'Like _really_ bad'

"...Uh... besides the obvious, why is that bad again?"

'That's a lot of lies'

'The serum's gonna wear off any time now'

'Damn. Peter'll be _heart broken_ '

'Then he'll hate us'

'And it'll be all our fault'

'Not to mention there's nothing we can really do about it'

'We could go get shot with whatever that stuff was again'

'Nah, wouldn't be smart. We might just end up dying'

Just like that, the momentary joy he'd felt seemed to sink away like a stone. "He... he'll be... heartbroken..." He murmured.

'Maybe we could stroll through a burning building? Then he wouldn't be surprised when we turn back up a mangled mess'

'Then he could totally go back to doting on us'

'It'd be like 'Misery', but with less of the bone-shattering terror'

'That was a good movie'

'We should watch it again'

'Hey, know who likes Stephen King? Peter does'

'True! We should go watch it with him'

'Oh, wait... never mind'

'Right. He's the _problem_ '

'Ha ha, whoops'

'That was almost awkward'

"His... his heart... I'm going to... Oh, god-- I'm going to... to break his heart...?" Wade began to panic. And he _rarely_ panicked. Now he was _really_ regretting that he'd promised to return the next day. How could he show up, all smiles, pretending everything would be peachy keen? "What do I do? What do I-- oh, _fucking_ hell. This is bad. This is really, _really_ bad."

'Told you'

"Why is this just coming up _now_? I thought I could move on before things got serious an' then he could just... he'd forget all about... me..."

'One hell of a rock and a hard place.'

"Ah, damn it all! I don't even know what's _worse_!" He wailed. "This almost never happens. It's usually the other way around, I-- I have to say something."

'The truth?'

'Gonna break it off?'

" _No_ , dammit!" He wasn't entirely sure which approach he was so adamantly disagreeing to. Each suggestion was equally painful to consider. "I... I know I can't keep running unless I'm gonna make it stick. I just... just need to say _something,_ an' it'd better be good. I need more time to think about it."

'Time's not really something we've got'

"Tomorrow morning. I go back _tomorrow morning_ an' I'll just... I guess I have no real choice, huh?"

'Telling the truth'd be easiest'

"There's nothing easy about it. Telling the truth can only lead to one of two things. Either he feels sorry for me, or he's repulsed by me. He ends up thinkin' I'm nuts or he ends up _knowin_ ' I'm nuts. That can't be how this ends. I can't _let_ that be how this ends." He began rubbing his hands together for warmth. He suddenly felt real cold. You always notice the cold more when you're alone. "In the end, I'll want him to remember me... like _this_ if at all. He just can't know who I..."

'Then what're we supposed to do?'

Wade laughed callously. "What am I supposed to do? What the fuck _else_? I'm gonna break his fuckin' heart!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy howdy. The world really didn't want this chapter to see the light of day. Let's just say Chrome loves crashing and my laptop generally hates being alive. It's a damn good thing I'm as stubborn as a fly trying to leave through a partially open window.
> 
> Anyway. Good on y'all for bein' s'damn patient. A bit of good news; next chapter's almost done. Wonder how Peter'll react to this development. Tune in next week. Same bat-time. Same bat-channel.


	9. Running with the Hare, Hunting with the Hounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just when I thought Wade's dialogue couldn't get any more fun to write.

A fine steam rolled out from under the bathroom door. Wade swallowed hard to try and dislodge the lump in his throat. "Petey," He croaked. There was no answer. He balled his hand into a fist and knocked lightly against the door dividing them.

"No, I don't need you to wash my back." Peter shouted over the rushing water.

"Peter, could I talk to you?" Wade shouted back.

"Oh, so it _is_ you." Peter said. "Good thing, too, I was having flashbacks from 'Psycho' for a minute there. But could it wait? I'm pretty indecent at the moment."

"No, it can't," Wade insisted. "I've been trying to find the right words for a while now an' I think I'll lose the order an' make a fool of myself if I don't get it off my chest now, so--"

"Fine, geez. Out with it, then."

"Okay... okay." Wade breathed. He pressed his back against the door and allowed gravity to pull him to the cool floor tiles. "Peter, you wouldn't let someone... someone of _less than satisfactory_ character into your house, right? Not knowingly, right?"

"...Welp. I certainly didn't wake up this morning expecting I'd be discussing philosophy in my birthday suit. That was _last_ week's horoscope. Um... anyway. That-- that question's pretty situational, so... uh... I can't really just say yes or no without considering the variables. What if a tree fell in a forest and all that. Why d'you ask?"

"Well, what if-- hypothetically speaking of course-- what if you were to find that... that..."

A pause.

"Something happen?" Peter spoke finally.

"Oh, nah, nothin'... lately. If you knew, though..." Wade grunted in frustration. He desperately wanted to stop lying to Peter, but he knew all too well what happened any time he let someone know who he was, and what he stood for. He didn't want Peter to hate him. Especially not Peter.

"Wade? You still there?"

"Yeah."

"Talk to me, man."

"Okay, let's put it this way, Peter. I... I'm..." He trailed off again.

"Huh? I can't hear you, dude, say again?"

Wade didn't respond. He simply listened as the shower tap squeaked shut.

A moment later, the door opened and Peter stood in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist. Wade scrambled to his feet, and turned to face him.

He was awestruck the moment he laid his eyes on him. Had... had Peter always been that damn cute?

'Oh, no. He's too powerful'

'Abort! _Abort_!'

"Sorry, what was that last thing you said?" Peter nonchalantly swept his hand through his dampened hair. Wade tried not to look directly at him, but he admittedly wasn't trying all that hard. "I couldn't hear you over the water."

'Does he look happy to see us or what?'

'Surely we can fix that'

"Pete-- I mean--  _Peter,_  we..."

'Oh, it looks like we've got our serious hat on'

'I thought we only wore that hat when we're about to hurt someone we care about'

"We have to..."

"...Wade?"

'But that can't be what's going on here, can it?'

'Which part? The _hurting_ part or the _caring_ part?'

'Either or'

'Nah. Couldn't be'

"...We have to talk about..."

'Might wanna watch that first step there, chief. It's a _doooozyyyy_ '

'Good ol' it's not you it's me'

'It's not me, it's you?'

"No, it's not _him_ ," He insisted, then redirected his attention to Peter. "...It's not _you_ , it..." He began mentally kicking himself. That fucking line. He'd worked so hard to avoid using that fucking pseudo-sympathetic line. He'd heard it a thousand times. Peter deserved a better explanation.

Peter shuffled awkwardly in place. "...Ooooh, boy. I see you've got your serious hat on. So we're really doing this, huh? Um... alrighty then. I was thinking a bit about what I'd say here, but I'm not the best at business-banter. Best I could figure is you say 'taxes' every other sentence. It's not a perfect science yet, I know. So, how 'bout them taxes, huh?"

"...Fuckin' hell, Peter." Wade grinned.

"Ah, there's a smile." Peter hummed softly. Wade couldn't emotionally accept that. It was misplaced.

He should have known that Peter wouldn't make any of this easy. At the same moment, Wade decided the floor was the most interesting and convenient thing ever in the history of avoiding eye-contact.

"...Listen, Parker, let's just skip the usual song an' dance right now, okay? No banter, no, jokes, an' let's just... talk about last night."

"Oh, you... really wanna talk about that? I thought for sure you'd wanna pretend it never happened."

"...That's no longer really an option."

"A-alright... we'll talk. J... just gimme a minute to cover my shame." He smiled shyly, tentatively ducking behind the door as if suddenly struck with self-aware embarrassment. "Wait for me in the living room," He shut the door without waiting for a response.

"Take your time." Wade sighed under his breath. Peter had just started getting comfortable around him, but it was clear that the sudden confession sent them back to square one.

 

* * *

 

'We really oughta store that image away for when we're alone and depressed later'

'What a hunk. Damn shame we never got to parade that around on our arm'

"This' all wrong," Wade slammed the fridge door shut and attempted to pry the cap off of a carton of juice. "What's he look s'damn happy to see me for? Did he realize I was bullshitting him before I even started bullshitting him?"

'Hot damn. Beauty _and_ brains'

'Guy like that? Hard to believe we're about to kick him to the curb'

"We're just friends," Wade spoke through gritted teeth. "Maybe... maybe even that's a generous title. I mean I like the kid but I'm not _in_ like with him." Or, at least that was what he'd resolved to keep telling himself. He pried at the cap more forcefully.

'Just friends? Is that why we keep fantasizing about--'

"Lord almighty _up the shut fuck_." He wailed in an attempt to drown out the voices. It was mostly ineffective.

'--in summer on a beach with apple schnapps?'

'It _does_ suck that we never got to tap that'

'Tapping would have been nice'

'We'd have tapped that into next week'

'Who'da thunk we'd ever manage to tap that heart?'

"No one's tapping a damn thing!" Frustrated, he tried to bite the cap off of the carton with his teeth. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, Peter pulled the carton from his Wade's hands and opened it effortlessly.

...How long had he been standing there?

"It's, uh... it's got an easy open seal on it, so... you can't really muscle it open." He said.

"Oh... hey."

"...Hey. Um... Who--" Peter started. "...who were you talking to?"

"See anyone else here?" Wade snapped.

'Maybe that was a bad move'

'He might think we're schizo or something'

'Who, us? _Never_ '

"Oh, shut up a minute, would'ya? He was gonna find out anyhow. Not like it even matters at this point." Wade could tell that Peter was listening intently. He seemed oddly nonjudgmental. "...They're not imaginary, just so we're clear."

"Never said they were."

"An', what? Still find my crazy ass so damn irresistible?"

"Actually... I've known. Pretty much the entire time, I've known. I noticed it before, that you... yeah. The night we met. I saw that you were talking... to..."

So he knew about that. He knew, and despite everything, he was still putting up with Wade. That was no small accomplishment.

"I wasn't," Wade said. "Not then. Not really, anyway. I was trying, but they were being awful quiet. Not like it exactly breaks my heart when they're gone, but if I was gonna bleed out I wouldn't wanna do it in silence, y'know?"

"I hear ya." Peter said gently. He sounded so kind, and yet so astute at the same time... Wade was caught off guard. This wasn't going the way he'd planned.

He finally looked more directly at Peter, studying him intently. Something was different. Maybe the light was hitting him just right or whatever, but just the act of looking at Peter sent pangs of unease surging through Wade. "Did you do something with your hair?" He asked.

"Nope. Why?"

"...You ever see something so cute you just wanna..." He raised his hands longingly, but promptly curled his hands into fists and crossed his arms over his chest.

'Smooth'

"What's with that face?" Peter chuckled. "I oughta be the dejected one, right? I'm about to be dumped. Dumped by a dude. A dude who I wasn't even dating. A dude who won't even tell me his last _name_. This isn't exactly typical for me."

"Listen, Parker. You're a good kid an' all. I really do think you're neat. I really do, but--"

"You... you don't believe a word that's come out of my mouth, do you?"

"I don't. I think you have no idea what you're getting yourself into, an' I'm about to pull one hell of a bait an' switch on ya. Lemme be perfectly honest with ya here," He couldn't help but laugh at that, knowing all of what he was about to say. Honest. Yeah, right. "I think you really like helping people, an' there's a firm chance you're just confusing this for that. You don't like me, you like that I _needed_ you. If you knew half of what I'm about, though, you'd be headed for the hills right now. Frankly, you could throw a dart out the window an' hit someone better. I really think you could." He didn't want to see Peter's face at that moment, so he hugged him close. He assumed that was probably the only reason he hugged him. "I'm fine now, though. I'm happy, you're happy, we're all happy. We can just put an end to this."

"Dude," Peter laughed softly. "You're... kinda crushing my spine."

"Deal with it."

"Your actions really aren't matching your words, y'know."

"I know."

"So, what... you're leaving again?"

"Yeah."

"...So, then... this is goodbye...?"

"I... I dunno."

 

* * *

 

Wade apparently couldn't stay away all that long. He was back that same night, and clearly not in the same mindset he had when he left.

"Hereya are, payin' money yuh don'even have fer this shitshack ya call an apartment. S'injustice, I tellya. Y'work so hard, Pete. Y'work so hard, an' this' whatchya got t' show fer it. The world duzzen't dezzerve ya. Not even almost. Even _I_ don't dezzerve yuh."

This time, Wade was quite clearly drunk. He'd stumbled through Peter's bedroom door like a bat out of hell and just sort of... climbed right in, and cuddled up next to him on top of the covers. Peter was surprised, to say the least.

Now... he just wasn't exactly sure what to think. "Yes, Wade. You've said that many times now. You're also very drunk."

"Yeaaaah. Drunk. Well, I s'pose I am. Guess I kinda fergot that wuzza thing I could do. Go figure." He nuzzled in closer and Peter tensed up like a statue. "Hell... yuh know how the ol' sayin' goes. 'I'd rather hava bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy', amirite?"

"Yeah, clever, but... W-Wade, you..." Peter wished he had something witty to say. He really did. All he could come up with was, "...You're _drunk_." Wow... way to go, captain obvious! He wanted to add more to that sentence, but he couldn't for the life of him think of anything else to say.

Right now, the most prominent variable was the fact that Wade was, indeed, very much _drunk_.

"Y'know what? You an' I should move in t'gether. An' I mean..." He squeezed Peter's waist tighter. "An' I mean _reeeeally_ in t'gether. None uh' this on again off again flimflam. I got enough coinage tuh take care uh yuh. I'd treat'chya right. I'd let'chya live like a mutherfukkin' _king_."

Peter squirmed out of Wade's arms and sat up to face him. He was about to tell him off when he got a good look at him. “What the hell have you been out doing? You look _awful._ ”

“Heh... you should see the _other_ guy.” Wade's voice sounded hoarse and breathy. He slowly sat himself up, rolled his tongue around his mouth a couple of times, then spat out a chipped tooth. He glanced up at Peter's horrified face, then said, “Aw, pookie. Don' look suh damn worried. I'm like an alligator. It'll grow back. Much sooner than later, might I add. It'll grow back.”

“Wade, this isn't even _almost_ funny. You... you need to take better care of yourself.” Peter grazed his fingertips against Wade's cheeks, inspecting his many bruises. Had he really gone out just to get drunk and pick a fight? Wade wasn't making it easy _not_ to worry about him. Peter held him a moment longer, then sighed as he decided what he'd do next. "You can sleep on the bed tonight... I'll take the couch. Try to get some sleep, ya big lug," Peter said as he slipped off the bed and backed towards the door, but Wade grabbed his wrist and pulled him back onto the mattress.

“...The hell're you even doin' with me, kid? Yuh got no business lookin' after a guy like me. Yuh don'even know me. Yuh dunno know the first goddamn _thing_ about me. I've done literally nothin' but lie to ya, an' I'm gonna _continue_ to lie to ya. Yer sucha good kid. I'm sure ya could do so much better.”

"I don't think I have the time to list all the things that are wrong with everything you just said. Wade, just try to get some sleep--"

"Hey, you can keepuh secret, can'tya, huh?" Wade perked up suddenly. "You can, can'tya, Petey? Theresumthin' I always liked aboutchya. Always keepin' things... secret... fer little ol'..." Struck with a sudden bout of dizziness, he moaned softly, swayed for a moment, then rested his forehead against Peter's. He could hardly keep his eyes open.

"If you need to throw up, please be a dear and hobble to the bathroom." Peter said.

Wade muttered a low growl of refusal. "Friends tell each other secrets, suh lizzen up. I... I think Imma 'boutta pass out, but here it goes. An' yuh absolutely can't tell'nyone. Not even Peter. Dear, sweet, darlin' Peter. Poor lil' mollusk. That poor lil' angel-faced sonovabish..."

"Wow. Eloquent."

"Thuh dirt-poor, poverty-stricken, stone broke, impe... _impecuniously_ destitute--"

"You sure do talk an awful lot. Ever notice that? I noticed that. Maybe it could be fun to, y'know... _not_ , for a while. Speaking of not talking, didn't you mention passing out a minute ago?"

"An'-- an' yuh see that? Theresanother thing. Yer sucha good listener." He ran Peter's hair through his hands and gently kissed his cheek, down to his jawline.

“Hey, th... that's enough already, numskull..." Peter blushed. "don't say anything you'll regret in the morning--”

“Y'know... maybe it's just the alco... alcohol'er whatever talkin'-- an' again, this is just between you an' me-- but... I figure I might really be a lil' sweet on ya, kid. You an' yer _kissable_ fuckin' angel-face. S'been uh wild ride here, I tellya, but somewhere along thuh line I think I mighta fallen at least half in-love with yuh. Fell suh damn hard an' hit the pavement like an egg. But-- but you can't know about any uh' this. Yuh just can't," Wade placed a hand on the back of Peter's neck as he slowly moved in to touch their lips together. "...this is just between you'n me, y'hear?"

Peter nervously shut his eyes in anticipation. He wanted to reciprocate-- to finally pull Wade closer, but... he just couldn't ignore the twisting knot in his stomach. “No, I... we can't,” He breathed, pulling his face away. “Wade, if... if that ever happens-- b-between us... it definitely won't be while you're... while you're, dare I say, _drunk_. That just... it wouldn't be fair _._ ”

“...Fuck-- m'sorry,” Wade slurred, resting his face in the crook of Peter's neck. “I... sorry.”

“Don't be,” Peter whispered. “You don't have to apologize.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loose lips sink ships. *Ba-dum-tss*


	10. All Cats Are Grey in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He seethed in pain as a twisted nostalgia washed over him."

He shuffled into the kitchen. The light flooding through the windows felt like daggers burrowing into his skull. Peter was already awake, and moving busily from place to place, suggesting he was in the midst of being late for school. Or work. Or both.

It was usually both.

Peter paused suddenly like a deer in the headlights when he noticed Wade was standing there, looking disheveled, and with his hair sticking up in all of the most charming places.

"Oh, hey-- good morning," Peter said. He had that 'blushing bride' look written all over his face. It didn't make waking up in his bed any less of an eyebrow raiser. "How'd you sleep?" He asked innocently.

"With my head in a vice, apparently. I feel like shit," He craned his neck to the side, making an audible cracking noise. "Ahh, that's the stuff. Got the vertebrae all outta line like you wouldn't believe. I also can't feel my liver. Think I mighta killed my favourite brain cell, too. Oh, an' I also drooled all over your pillow. This is all just really unfortunate."

"Well-- Um... I'm getting ready to go out, but... want... coffee?" Peter ghosted his hands over the kitchen counter until his fingers curled around the handle of the coffee pot. He didn't once take his eyes off of Wade. "...Or something? I-I could make coffee. If... if you want. Coffee? I..." He smiled awkwardly, like he'd been rehearsing the flawless execution of that line all morning. If that was supposed to be a quip, the kid was apparently losing his touch.

"...'Kay, did I just step into a fuckin' Folgers commercial? Because the fresh mountain grown aroma of Folgers coffee can really blah blah blah God's gift to man blah blah."

"Oh, Wade," Peter snickered, rolling his eyes. "never change." It was an unfortunate choice of words.

Wade became distraught. Of his own accord, he wasn't even supposed to _be_ here. He knew he couldn't joke the elephant out of the room today. "Uh... how'd I get here, Pete, I mean... I really can't remember fuck-all of what went on last night, an' so, you see..."

Peter flinched at that remark. "You-- you don't remember... like, _anything_? At _all_?"

So... that was another bad sign.

“Zilch. Nada. Zip. Why, what happened? Did I say something? It was probably a complete load of bull. Drunk me is an ass. Fuck that guy. You can probably go right ahead an' un-knot your knickers now."

Of course Wade remembered a bit more than he was letting on.

He remembered encountering some guys who needed to be taken care of when he left the bar. So he took 'care' of them. No killing took place, naturally, but when you aren't aiming to kill and you're plainly outnumbered, a fight can take a bit longer to win than usual. He took a few hits in the process, but justice was eventually served where justice was due.

Afterwards, the lady these guys were harassing came up and starting thanking him like crazy-- asking him if he was gonna be okay getting home, stuff like that. He muttered some incoherent responses and shuffled away in an arbitrary direction which apparently wasn't so arbitrary after all.

He didn't know how he got home beyond that, though, and the story didn't seem like one Peter would need to hear. It was a long story, it would take too long to explain, and Peter would have too many damn questions. Wouldn't be worth mentioning.

He knew he wouldn't have been in enough of a stupor to say anything incriminating, so it was anyone's guess as to why Peter looked so disappointed.

“Oh, I... is that so..." He muttered.

Crap. There's no way this was what it looked like, right? But then... what in the hell else was he forgetting? The pieces were right there in front of him, but unconsciously, he either couldn't or adamantly refused to put them together.

There _had_ to be a way to approach this awkward tension in a gentle manner. “No, no, wait-- I remember I... I had an awful lotta beer, apple schnaps, an' something called a daiquiri. The daiquiri was nice. The glass had sugar coated along the rim an' I'm usually not big on rum but I gotta tell ya, those girly drinks really are the way to go. The strawberries really sell it. That aside, I couldn't help but notice that I woke up in your bed just now. That's new."

"Yeah, that's... one way of putting it."

"Mhm. So. Petey. Tell me if I'm gettin' warm here, but... am I that far out of my lane assuming this uncomfortable tension here has somethin' to do with the fact that we, uh... it's just that when ya put two an' two together, an' I guess I mean that figuratively or literally considering I'm not sure _which_ if either event took place an' I doubt I'd have been liquored up enough to let you sleep on the couch, so the 'together' theory doesn't seem so--"

"Oh, lord. Please stop talking."

"...Not that I'd be all that opposed if anything _did_ happen, but I was totally wasted an' I'd at the very least wanna remember every solitary detail. Why're you glaring at me like that? Was I that bad?”

"In the same bed!" Peter insisted, burning a shade of red that was probably new to the colour spectrum. "Together-- just in the same bed. That's it."

“Oh, thank goodne-- wait, hold up. So you mean to tell me I spent the whole night there an' _nothing_  happened? Didn't even get to cop a feel? Hot damn, I must really be losing my touch.”

Peter seemed flustered as he recounted the details in his mind. "...Look-- let's not get into it now. I have to get going, so... we'll talk about it when I get back. That means you better not go anywhere, alright? Promise me."

"Oh, hold up, wait. Listen Pete, I dunno if I--"

"Wade, _promise me_." Peter pleaded. "Just for today, at least. There's a lot I have to say to you. It's... important."

Well, when he puts it that way.

"...Sure, whatever. I'll stay put." Wade said reluctantly.

Peter visibly relaxed, flashing a more natural grin. "Good. And if you don't-- hoo boy, I can practically see the Bugle headline now. 'Local man breaks pinky-promise'. Third graders everywhere would be giving you the stink eye--"

"--Since you're heading out, try not to forget your camera this time," Wade interrupted.

"...What?"

"Your camera? You left it here last time you were off taking pictures. Guess you musta' left in a hurry."

They both knew how ridiculous that sounded. That was probably the only reason Wade thought to say it out loud.

What was he implying?

Peter wanted to ask, but... how could he?

 

* * *

 

He groaned, struggling to turn his key in the lock.

It jammed defiantly, refusing to turn right or left. Using an extra bout of strength, he finally managed to pry it open.

Muscle exertion. What a treat after a full day of crime fighting.

When he stepped inside, the apartment was dark, and silent.

Certainly unusual, compared to the facehugger-esque greeting he usually received. Still, he called out, carrying on as though nothing was amiss.

"Wade, quit jimmying the door open when you come over, wouldya? I'll cut you a damn key or something. The lock may as well be stuffed with bubble gum-- it'd be real inconvenient if I were outrunning a serial killer," No response. Somehow, he knew he wasn't talking to himself. "...If you're planning to jump out and scare me I promise I'll leave you in a box under a bridge. If you think you can get away with your shenanigans just 'cause I think you're a dreamboat or whatever, you're _dead_ wrong." This wasn't working. "Um... Marco...?" Peter tried finally.

"Who in the ever-loving the fuck is 'Marco', Pete? Someone I should know about?" Wade coughed. His voice was coming from the darkened bedroom, with the door slightly ajar. "...Oh, I mean 'polo'."

" _There_ you are," Peter approached the bedroom cautiously, creaking the door open. "Wade, what are you doing sitting in here with the lights out? Are... you okay?"

"Hm," Wade turned to look at him, his expression vacant and hollow. "...Pete, you gotta minute?"

"Yeah, I-I can make a minute," Peter prodded the wall for the light switch. "What's up? You alright?"

"Leave the light off, wouldya?" Wade avoided the question again. He coughed once more. "Wanna come sit with me a while?"

"Um-- sure? But..." He stepped slowly into the room. His eyes better adjusted to the darkness, he was certain of it now. Wade did _not_ look well-- and it probably wasn't just because of the hangover, or his tired eyes. Everything about him was somehow different. He carried himself stiffly as opposed to the lax, confident demeanor Peter remembered. Even his voice had lost some of its luster. "Wade, you... you sound a bit..."

"Puberty. Just come sit." He patted the bed next to himself.

Peter peered at Wade with wide, worried eyes. "You're not sick or anything, are you?"

Wade never really returned his gaze. "S'just my larynx. I mean... my-- um-- it's-- it's... just a sore throat. Yeah. That's the ticket. Now're you gonna come sit or what?"

Peter sat next to him on the bed and immediately pressed the back of his hand into Wade's cheek. He felt a bit warm to the touch. "How's your injury been these days, by the way? You haven't let me check in on you in a while-- it hasn't reopened at all, has it?"

Wade stared at him blankly before coughing dramatically, and clutching to his stomach as though he was trying to quell the bleeding. "I dunno, boss. S'all goin' dark over here. I don' think I'll last much longer-- I'm seein' my life flashin' right before my eyes. Actually, no, I can't. It's too dark. One week from retirement, too. Ma always said I'd go out shot in the stomach one week from retirement."

"Wade, knock it off--"

"You there, Petey? I can't hardly see ya," He waved his arms around in front of himself as though he were stumbling blindly through the dark. "They got me, man. This is it. It's curtains. I'm done for. On my last legs. Kaput. In _smithereens_."

"You've made your point--"

"Think it's my eyes, Pete. Them _bastards_ went an' took my eyes, too, the damn vultures. I can't hardly see nothin'. To top it off-- guess how many days I am from retirement. Go ahead. _Guess_."

"Hell, you're lucky _I_ haven't shot you yet. Give it a rest, alread--"

"There it is, man. The light at the end of the tunnel. S'beautiful. Like the light comin' from the refrigerator in the middle of the night. Gasp. S'that you, mama? Mama, your little boy's comin' home, an' you're never gonna guess what finally done me in. Oh wait, yes you will--"

" _Not funny_!" Peter elbowed him sharply, earning him an unrepentant snicker in reply.

"Kinda funny."

"Yeah, you're a riot! I hope you'll write me from Hollywood one of these days!" Peter sighed, exasperated. "Dude I'm trying to have a civilized conversation, here."

"Trying an' failing."

"You really don't know when to stop. Wade, I'm beggin' ya. Just for five minutes. Give me _five minutes_." Wade sat silently for all of half a second.

"...How long was that?"

"I-- I really don't know whether I want to punch you, or... no, I definitely want to punch you. You're an asshole, you know that? Downright obnoxious. Why in the hell do I like you so damn much."

"Beats me. You certainly could up your standards."

"That's not funny. I'm seriously worried about you, you know?"

Wade smiled, but it didn't seem to be directed at Peter. More like he was reminiscing. Not fondly, but... melancholic. "Kid, I'm not some fragile daisy that's about to snap in the fuckin' wind. If there're two things I'm damn good at, it'd be filibustering, an' not dying. Doctors always throw around words like 'terminal' or 'inoperable' like just hearin' the word's gonna start the timer. Always dead until proven alive with with those people. Anyway. I'm fine. Honestly. I've just got a... a real nasty scar developing an' I don't want you to lose your lunch."

"You think I care about a scar? I don't care what it _looks_ like, I..."

"Yeah... sure," Wade snickered, apparently not willing to put money on that bet. He stared straight ahead. "Hey-- can I ask you somethin'? Just outta curiosity?"

Peter nodded briskly. "Go for it."

"...What _is_ it that you like about me? I mean why do you-- why would..."

Peter couldn't help but laugh. "What is it I like about you? Well, I gotta say, it's your ninth eyelash on the left. If not for that _one_ eyelash, I'd send you packing." Wade grunted. He clearly wasn't in the mood for the playful jab. "Wade, really. There's no _one_ thing that I can just pull out of the air. I like having you around. I like talking with you. I even like the stuff I dislike about you. I can't for the life of me look back on an argument we've had without smiling to myself about it. Not to mention I think you might even be _almost_ as funny as I am. I'm not just bringing this up so we can go start our own comedy troupe, either. I don't... I don't know what else I can say, but..."

"Hey, lemme tellya a story, huh? Lend me your ear a minute," He didn't wait for affirmation before continuing. "So... this one time in elementary school, we had this assembly, right? I still have no idea what it was for, but... the principle invited this guy-- this average looking guy-- an' he was gonna escape from a straight jacket. It was just for our entertainment, I guess, but when you think about it, that might not be the best thing for a room full of ankle-biters. They said it was magic, though, an' I guess that's the only requirement anything needs to qualify as being kid safe. So the dude wriggles around a bit, right? An' eventually, he uses his quote-unquote 'magic' to break free. But I was sitting in the front row. The spectacle was certainly many things, but... it wasn't magic. Like, at all. I heard it. I heard his shoulder dislocate. Couldn't really make heads or tails of it at the time. No one else seemed to notice, or they pretended not to so the trick would still seem-- I don't know-- lighthearted? Innocent? Hell, I might have enjoyed it better if I'd remained blissfully ignorant, too."

"Is... that true?"

"Which part?" Wade asked simply. Peter understood the unsaid connotations of that statement, and didn't press further. "Anyway, the point is... the truth's pretty damn ugly, Pete. I don't really know what it is you've decided about me is s'damn charming, but I have a feeling it won't still be here when this' all said an' done."

"Don't be stupid--"

"I don't recall listing that as one of my strong suits."

"--Whatever it is, you can _talk_ to me. P-please talk to me, I just..." Frustrated, Peter threw his arms around Wade's neck, hugging him tightly, making it effectively the first time he'd ever done so. He hugged him with such force, Wade was knocked backwards, and had to prop himself up on his elbows. To think that all it took was one hug from the kid to get his heart hammering out of his chest. "I like you, Wade. And I have a sneaking suspicion that you might share the sentiment."

"Yeah, well, at the very least I don't hate you."

"...Aaaand at the very most?"

Wade frowned. "You're the smart one, ain'tchya? You figure it out."

"Wade, please," Peter shook his head, and hugged Wade closer. "I feel hypocritical as it is. I know that you've got secrets, and... and I've got secrets--"

"I'm aware."

"But I don't want to never see you again. The fact that you think whatever you're hiding is something you have to _leave_ over is completely..."

Mind boggling.

All of this was completely mind boggling. Why would Peter so willingly unload all of this? Wade was possibly the last person on earth you'd want to trust with this sort of information. It's the kind of information that could be so easily exploited, you'd likely only share with someone you felt you could trust.

But he _wasn't_ trustworthy. How could Peter possibly think otherwise?

Had the fact that Wade hadn't harvested and sold either of Peter's kidneys really been that compelling of a relational selling point?  Was this guy who hadn't even _tried_ to make a good first impression-- or second impression, or even _third_ impression-- was _Wade_ really the best option out of all the company Peter keeps?

Unlikely. Wade simply couldn't wrap his mind around it.

"Just... _talk_ to me," Peter repeated. The sad, confused look on his face was enough to tear Wade's heart out. It was the same feeling of panic he'd gotten when Peter had first expressed his feelings. "I... I wish you could trust me enough to... to..." Peter spoke with a hopeless finality which suggested he'd already washed his hands of any hope of a response-- that he'd already grown long tired of hearing Wade humor him.

Wade was at his breaking point. Slowly, he sat himself up, and Peter pulled out of the hug in response, saying nothing as their eyes met. Wade's expression was a mixture of frustration, longing, and... something terribly grievous. Without warning, he lowered his hands down to Peter's hips, and pulled him closer by the small of his back.

Peter's lips were far softer than he imagined they'd be. The sensation was overwhelming-- and he desperately needed more contact. He pressed their lips together in a rough and unyielding haze of pent up emotion as Peter clutched to him by the shoulders. Peter whined softly as Wade pulled away for a languid moment to breathe-- or maybe to consider the full extent of what he'd just done.

It certainly wasn't regret he was feeling.

He didn't care about the repercussions. He didn't even care about the painful burning sensation he felt prickling at his fingertips-- like he was slowly submerging his hands into a vat of steadily boiling oil. It hardly registered. It was something future Wade would have to deal with. For now, he wanted this.

He wanted this, and he was _happy_.

Not a moment later, Wade was back on him, locking their lips in another desperate kiss as desire pooled in his chest. You could just about hear the moment he snapped. The low growl that escaped his throat, the shallow breaths as he lost himself in the moment. All but for this, an eerie silence hung over them.

"Wade, why..." Peter breathed in between kisses. "...why does this feel so... so final...?" As usual, nothing gets past the ever-perceptive Peter.

The question was enough to coax Wade back into reality.

He pulled their faces inches apart, and his eyes strained as he tried to decipher Peter's expression; though in the darkness, his features appeared blurred.

It was unnerving.

"Fuck, what the hell am I even... I... didn't even think about..." Just how long ago was it that he said he was done using Peter? And at the time, he'd actually believed it.

Slowly, and with a heavy heart, he shifted to put a gap between them, but Peter held him in place before he could leave. "Wade, don't-- Hold on," He urged.

"Hold onto what?" Wade replied unconsciously.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, the room had gotten cold around them. Peter looked content, sleeping with his arms wrapped around Wade's torso and his face buried into his chest.

Wade was in pain, by every definition of the word, and it was only getting worse over time, but he _sincerely_ hated the idea of having to pull away so soon.

It's like-- if you have a sleeping kitten in your lap, it doesn't matter if you feel the blood has stopped circulating in your legs and you can't feel your toes and you know there's probably a double amputation in your near future-- you sit there and make certain you don't move an inch.

Soon, however, Wade was at his limit-- and he knew he was only digging himself deeper. He hugged Peter closer as he stroked his hair solemnly, then carefully peeled his hands away and slid out from under the covers, perching himself on the edge of the bed.

The tingling he'd felt in his fingertips had gradually intensified into a fervent, and impossible to ignore burning sensation which was spreading over his arms at an agonizing rate. He seethed in pain as a twisted nostalgia washed over him.

"...Another bad dream...?" Peter murmured.

"No, I--" Wade started. He glanced back at Peter, who rubbed sleepily at his eyes, but he could hardly keep them open. "...You even awake right now?" Wade whispered. Peter shook his head, already nodding off again. He was almost too damn cute to handle. Wade just turned to him, and kissed him gently. "It's still early. Just go back t'sleep, okay?"

"Mm... don' hafta ask me twice," Peter laid his head back on the pillow. "We'll talk in... in thuh... mornininn..." He was out like a light almost immediately.

Wade didn't respond. He simply traced his hand over the gash now opening along his arm.

Time was up. He wanted to believe he'd made the most of those last few days-- those last few _moments_. He tousled Peter's hair a bit, and then planted a final kiss on his forehead.

He made his way towards the bedroom door, knowing that looking back would most likely mean certain defeat.

And he really couldn't _stay_... could he?

 

* * *

 

Peter felt the bed grow cold next to him. The sun hadn't even started coming up yet.

He had this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was... _wrong_. He wrapped the blanket around himself as he shuffled to his feet, and into the living room.

"...Wade...?" He called weakly. There was no response.

There was no mistake about it this time. He didn't need to try calling again.

He stumbled into the kitchen, and on a whim, turned towards the fridge. He checked the bottom, first, and then the top. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh, or cry.

There was a note.

A note suspended with that all too familiar magnet. He pulled it free, and read it over and over, but there was no other way to interpret it.

It read the simple word 'sorry'. The initials were crossed out hastily, and then reprinted underneath, 'W.W.'

Finally, Peter laughed.

It was the sort of laugh you just default to when no other emotion will suffice. He wasn't entirely angry or entirely sad. He was lost somewhere in the middle, and deep down he knew what this meant.

That night was the last time he'd see Wade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. There'll be plenty of 'truth' flying around in the next few chapters, believe you me.
> 
> Next update's expected a week to the day-- maybe earlier. :]


	11. A Stitch in Time Saves Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, no, they didn't do the do. I promise you I'd have gone into a bit more detail had that been the case. *Eyebrow wiggle*
> 
> Thus marks the beginning of the final arc.

It was about two months later, and he still hadn't gotten around to learning the name of the kid who sat next to him in class. Apparently they had that in common, though, as the kid seemed to have adamantly taken to calling him Patrick.

You just stop correcting people after a while.

"Y'know, Patrick. I gotta say, I firmly believe that when you're some kinda intellectual hotshot, you really oughta spread some of that around. Now I, as a working class student, do not always have time to study. I bet you don't even _need_ to study. Now, I'm not implying that anything is anyone's fault, but in case you were curious, I _did_ , in fact, flunk that last test. Bygones. For this next one, though, I feel that you and I could greatly benefit from helping each other out. I mean, why not? We're _friends_ , aren't we?"

How amazing was this. It was, like, _two months_ later, and... he was still being used.

Peter left the lecture early.

And then he headed to the book store.

And then the cafe.

He hadn't been back to the cafe in a little over... well-- two months. He didn't go back for any special reason. It was an alright cafe.

The waitress still seemed to recognize him, though. "Hey, you! You're here alone today? Where's your cute boyfriend? Y'know, tall, blonde and handsome?"

Well... she certainly didn't waste any time.

"He's not... he wasn't my boyfriend. And he's not coming back." Peter replied directly.

"Aw, did you two break up? You were so cute together."

"We weren't dating. You can't break up with someone you aren't dating."

"Of course you can." She said as though it was obvious. Was it obvious? "Anyway, what can I get you?"

"...Just coffee, thanks." Peter didn't even like coffee.

"And also, maybe it's none of my business, but... I'll keep an eye out for him, yeah? Let you know if he drops by?"

"Thanks, but... no, I'm okay. Whatever was going on there is... pretty well over."

"Alright, alright. If you say so. One coffee, coming up!" She trotted away, bubbly and high spirited.

Peter glanced over to the discarded newspaper someone had left on the far end of his table. He focused on the print for several minutes before pulling it closer and inspecting the puzzle section. Whoever had left it completely and correctly filled in the crosswords and Sudoku.

Peter gripped the paper so tightly the thin material crinkled and began to tear between his fingers.

The handwriting was familiar; unmistakably so. He furrowed his eyebrows as he burned the eloquent cursive into his mind. Finding his throat suddenly very dry, Peter took a sip of his now-cold coffee and waved the waitress back over. "Ah, hey-- excuse me, Jennifer, was it?"

"Jessica," She corrected. "Is everything satisfactory?"

"As it could be, thanks, but—"

"And listen-- It's okay to not be okay. I can tell how not okay you are by how okay you're acting."

"Wait, what?"

"It's alright to cry."

"I'm not gonna cry," He said. "I feel fine." And he really did. Honestly.

"In that case, do you think he still has my number? I've just had the _worst_ luck with guys these days." Okay, so that statement made him feel a bit less fine. He was still fine, though.

"I... wouldn't know. That's not... not really my business... or something." He adjusted his glasses. "...Um, just out of curiosity-- whose newspaper was this? Do you know who left it?"

"Ooh, yeah, some spandex dude came by not too long ago-- he sat there before you. I think he was a bad Spider-man cosplayer or something? Like, he couldn't even get the blue parts right? He did have some cool plastic swords, though. Almost looked real."

"Wh-whoa, wait, what? I-- seriously!?" Peter's jaw just about dropped to the floor. Had he heard that right? If so... it sure explained a lot. "Uh... h-how long ago was that?"

"Hour, hour and a half, maybe?"

"And you're positive? Do you know where he was headed?"

"Afraid not. Not unless Comicon's in town, which I don't think it is since I haven't seen a single Batman here today. Anyway-- the dude never even ordered anything. Just sat there for a while muttering to himself, filled out some crosswords, tipped pretty generously, and left. It was fricken' weird. He even talked to me like he knew me or something. I just said 'Ugh, no chance in hell'. Seriously, how come _I_ always get the crazies?"

"He's not--! Well, maybe he _is_ , but-- Did you see which direction he--" Peter bit his bottom lip. This was all putting things into perspective, but so what? What was he really planning to do with this information now that it had surfaced? Nothing was certain, and even if any of this meant what he _thought_ it meant, the outcome was still the same. Peter had been dumped. He'd already resolved to proceed with his life as he would any other day-- there was no point in undoing any of that now. "I... no, forget I asked. Sorry. Look, thanks for the coffee, but I should really be... Damn, where did I put my wallet?" Peter patted the inside fabric of his bag, reaching all the way to the bottom to finally grab his wallet. "How much do I owe... you..." He trailed off. A small piece of paper was caught inside one of the compartments, and had fallen onto the table before him.

The sight of it caused something inside of him to snap.

He hurriedly pulled a twenty from his wallet and placed it by his mostly full cup.

"You sure look determined all of a sudden." The waitress exclaimed.

"You know what? You were right. This isn't going to end here."

"Off to look for prince charming, are we? Exciting! Like a romcom unfolding right in front of me. What are you going to do?

"Find him. Punch him square in the jaw. I'll think of the rest later. Keep the change."

 

* * *

 

He fled the cafe and was soon made painfully aware of the bustling swarm of unfamiliar faces. It was a huge city. This would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

He knew he'd have to take to the skies if he was going to stand a chance of catching a glimpse of the guy.

Spider-man traveled from rooftop to rooftop.

Finally, he spotted him, his bright red get-up contrasted against the crowds of people below. The confrontation was imminent, though he was plainly under-prepared and unsure of what to say.

To top it off, Spider-man wouldn't have had time to change out of his suit. It would probably make all hope of a civil encounter unlikely, if not impossible, but... it was of little concern at the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now he knows. And knowing is half the battle.
> 
> Up next-- the showdown.


	12. A Day Late and a Dollar Short

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go. Pretty much.

He was sat at one of the many cafe tables with his head buried in his hands.

He was hurting.

It was reminiscent of the pain one experiences following a punch to the stomach. Not the pain of the blow itself, but the aftermath. The aftermath in which you can't seem to get the air to flow into your lungs, and you instinctively hunch forward in a futile attempt to quell the pain.

Difference is-- in most cases when the choking and wheezing subsides, you go back to relatively the same place you were pre-punch-to-the-gut.

For Deadpool, the phantom pain was still fresh in his mind as a fucking daisy.

Not that you'd tell any of this by looking at him, though. You could hear a pin drop next to the war that raged in his mind, and on the outside, the past several months simply hadn't taken place.

After all-- he knew he'd get over it. He always did.

'No we don't'

"I will." He said.

"Um, excuse me? Sir?" Someone spoke, only partially pulling him from his thoughts. It was the waitress. He stared at her blankly, then forced himself to respond.

"Oh, uh, hey..." He sat in thought for a moment. The hell was her name again? "Shit, wait, don't tell me... Jess, was it?"

"Um. Yeah, no. It's Jessica." She corrected bitterly.

"Whoop, my bad," He shrugged. "Can't believe I'd get that wrong."

"Sir, if you're not going to buy anything I'm gonna have to ask you to _leave_."

Unsurprisingly.

"Pardon, boss," He said, with the usual air of false confidence. "Didn't mean to loiter." He pulled a twenty from one of his pouches, tossed it on the table, and exited wordlessly.

Now, to fully get back into the swing of things, he needed only to complete the illusion. He'd gotten quite good at it.

"Deadpool's back, biatches!" He exclaimed, holding his fists triumphantly in the air. The preoccupied lunch-goers paid him no mind, pushing past him indiscriminately. "Thanks for the warm welcome, NY. Missed you too."

'Course, no one gives a hoot unless he's causing a ruckus. He'd have to get reacquainted with being reviled by most every social group. The kid had behaved so convivially, he'd actually...

Deadpool shook his head as he settled into one of the lengthy food concession lines.

It happened often that he found himself thinking back-- and it was the emotional equivalent of shoving his own hand into a waffle iron. Painful, and disadvantageous. Thus, he'd already banned himself from thinking of he who shall not tear open old wounds by nature of sheer mention.

The line continued to move forwards at a sail pace, and he moved patiently along with it. Admittedly, this wasn't a great first step towards his regular lifestyle. He was waiting in _line_ , for crying out loud. Still, he took another patient step forwards.

"Hey, isn't that Spider-man?" Someone spoke loudly. Deadpool recoiled. He was not in the mood for this by any stretch of the imagination. Resolving to ignore it, he took another haggard step forward. His food was taking a lot longer to reach him than it would have any other day.

"Whoa, that _is_ Spider-man! What's he doing here?"

"Gimme a break," Deadpool uttered under his breath. He'd been here an hour and he was already getting mixed up with... well... _that guy_.

"Lemme get a picture, Spidey!" Now that just takes the fucking cake. Deadpool turned on his heel and gesticulated angrily towards the now growing crowd of passersby.

"Hey, knock it off, wouldya!? For the record, _his_ outfit looks like _mine_!"

The crowd fell silent. They weren't fleeing in terror as per usual. They weren't even looking at Deadpool. His eyes dropped just a few centimeters and fell onto the red and blue clad man standing only an arm’s length away from him.

The last person Deadpool wanted to see, and he probably wasn't here selling girl scout cookies. "...Son of a fuck," Deadpool dropped his arms to his sides. “...You, uh... you lost, short stack?”

"We need to talk."

Of course they did.

"Really, dude? I haven't even been here long enough to cause mayhem or whatever it is you're thinking."

"That's neat. We still need to talk, though."

And he still absolutely could not let that happen. Not _civilly_ , anyway.

"Well, this is just fuckin' great. What can I do for you, officer? Was I speeding?"

"I... I'm not here to start anything, Deadpool. I just wanna talk."

"Yeah, yeah. I know the drill. This is the part where we banter an' shit. Well, fine. I'll get us started." Deadpool tiredly crossed his arms over his chest. "You're the one who's out, Gobby. Out of your _mind_. It's the car, isn't it? Chicks dig the car. You were merely adopted by the darkness. I was _born_ in it. _Raised_ by it."

"Deadpool. You're stalling."

"...This is why Superman works alone."

"I'm not playing this game with you today. We need to--"

"You picked a real shit day to pull this, hero, an' frankly I'm in no mood. Look, I'll be gone before the end of the day. I'm just trying to get myself some..." Deadpool realized he hadn't even checked to see what he was in line for, and glanced at the concession sign. "...Felafel. Fuckin' really?" He groaned.

"I'm not here to kick you out of the city, I just--"

"Good. Now if we're not gonna have a problem, then push on."

"I'm not leaving until we talk!"

"Then _talk_!"

Spider-man looked towards the steadily growing crowd of people who encircled them.

"Not... not here, okay?"

"Well tough, since I ain't movin'. Couldn't risk losing my spot in line, now, could I?"

"You could cut ahead of me," Chimed the guy standing behind him.

"Stay out of it," Deadpool said sternly, not even bothering to turn around to look at him. It had nothing to do with the line-- but to anyone on the outside looking in? This was just another Spider-man-versus-arbitrary-villain-showdown. Deadpool intended to treat it as such.

"I really don't mind I mean if it'll defuse the situation I'd totally let you cut ahead of me, I--"

"We're not gonna fight. Stay out of it." Spider-man murmured, his eyes firmly planted on Deadpool.

"--really just want to get some lunch before my next shift and when you super folk go at it the city tends to shut down for a while and it's mighty inconvenient when--"

Deadpool cracked his knuckles. "What part of _stay out of it_ \--"

"Deadpool," Spider-man persisted, determined to keep his attention. "You know why I'm here and you _know_ who I am. Let's not mince words, and--"

"Of course I know who you are, Web-head. All of New York knows. Your ego won't let us forget." Normally, at this point in conversation, most people would have given up. Of course, as Deadpool had come to find, Spider-man wasn't, quote unquote, ' _most people_ '.

"Deadpool would you shut your gob and _listen_ for a minute?"

"I listened. Sounds like we've got nothing to discuss." Deadpool started a slow trot backwards, and prepared to turn.

"Damn it, wait!" Spider-man pleaded, grabbing Deadpool by the wrist. It proved to be a big mistake.

Deadpool twisted his arm around, bending Spider-man's wrist at a painful angle. Not a moment later, he drew backwards and then forwards, using the momentum to propel Spider-man to the ground with immense speed. He used his free hand to keep him firmly pinned in place by the shoulder.

...No spider sense, huh?

"Back up, Jack," Deadpool snarled. "I'd hate to murder an American icon on such a nice day, but you _really_ shouldn't test me on that.”

There were a million things going through Spider-man's mind. What if he had the wrong guy after all? But if that was the case, why didn't his Spider-sense react? "Deadp--"

"Hey everyone, superhero fight! Crowd around!" Someone shouted.

"No, we're _not_ fighting! _Don't_ crowd around!" Spider-man shouted back.

Most everyone began crowding around, their mouths practically drooling at the thought of the extra dough a decent picture could rake in. "Kick his ass, Spidey!" They encouraged. They probably didn't even care which 'Spider-man' they were rooting for anymore.

"For the love of... Deadpool, I _know_ you know who I am, and I _know_ you know why I'm here!"

"Spider-man, king of the nerds, here to put an end to fun an' merriment once an' fer all. Hey, the people want a show... what say we deliver, huh? There's a story for the ' _Bugle'_ , right?" He said, his tone brazen and harsh.

That seemed to strike a nerve. Spider-man gasped slightly, shaking his head despite his limited movement. "Cut. The. _Crap_...!" He seethed. At this point, he was absolutely livid.

"Tsk tsk, Spidey. You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"I'm not gonna fight you," He muttered. "I know that's what you want, but I'm not going to. If we fight, we'll sink back into that old routine. We'll have to throw all hope of talking this through _rationally_ out the goddamn window. But you know what? I'm not playing that game with you. We're not doing this."

An onslaught of cheering, heckling, and camera flashes continued to barrage Deadpool's peripheral like a cheese grater on his senses. It was maddening-- and he really didn't wanna let this escalate any further. He loosed his grip, and rose back into a standing position. "...Beat it, kid. Gongshow's over."

The crowd erupted into a chorus of confused whispers.

"Deadpool, that's not what this--" He started, then reconsidered his choice of words. "no... W-Wa..."

"Wait for what?" Deadpool grunted, impatient.

"...Wade..." Spider-man uttered finally, carefully pulling himself back to his feet.

Deadpool didn't react-- didn't even _flinch_ \-- and again turned to walk away.

Spider-man staggered backwards a fair distance from the line, and placed a thumb underneath the hem of his mask, not uttering a word.

Everyone gasped collectively, and readied their cameras. That certainly seemed to get Deadpool's attention.

Spider-man continued tugging at the mask expectantly, and Deadpool's heart dropped in his stomach. "Hey-- don't!" He shouted, bounding forwards and grabbing hold of Spider-man's wrist. "The _hell_ are you thinking!?"

"Line..." He muttered.

"What?"

"I said you're out of line, Deadpool. Literally. You fell for my bluff."

Deadpool's mind went blank. "I-- I don't believe--"

"Me either," Spider-man shrugged sarcastically. "Why, Deadpool, I hadn't the _foggiest_ idea that you _cared_! Fancy that!"

Wow. He really couldn't bullshit his way out of this one. "You... you're despicable, you know that?"

"The word most tend to use is 'menace', but, yeah. That works too," Spider-man said, grabbing him by the hand and leading him away. "Let's go talk about it."

"Do... do we honestly have to hold hands? Like, really?"

"Yup."

"...Someone'll take a photo, is the point I'm trying to get across."

"Don't care."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W.W.  
> I mean, who do you figure that is, y'know? Woodrow Wilson? Willy Wonka? Walter White?


End file.
